


Stardom

by Anonymous



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: FrostIron - Freeform, Frostiron Kinkmeme, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, PWP, Sakaar!AU, mentions of past underage, pornstar!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-03-18 13:36:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13682772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: For Valentine's Day and for the following Frostiron Kinkmeme prompts:Tony is a huge fan of pornstar power bottom Loki and decides one day that he has to fuck him, even if it means doing it in front of cameras!ANDTony is the Grandmaster that Loki has to incur favour with, Loki offers his talented mouth as an option and sucks Tony off in a chair, very, very well. (Optional: other people are present while he does this.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short little story. I'm writing it for fun, not with a lot of seriousness in mind, so it's not beta'ed.
> 
> As RDJ would say it: Happy Valentine's Day shippers! (Sure, he didn't mention Frostiron, but we are in his heart all the same, probably).

Tony had never been one for pornography before.

He'd seen his share of it as a teenager, in the dorm rooms of prestigious schools whose prestigious students didn't have such prestigious needs. Like everyone else, he'd watched, because he'd been curious, and it had been the next best thing until he could actually gather the nerve to ask someone out. But as he grew out of his acne and the polo shirts his mother's assistants bought for him, and as men and women both fell for him at the very first sign, he'd hardly ever felt the need to go back to porn.

It wasn't until that one mission -a silly little thing, but one that needed him on a stake out- that he felt... Bored. There was nothing to do, no one to bother or to flirt with. Just him, alone in a SHIELD safehouse in the middle of nowhere.

Well, he could only have fun with his hand for so long without mental simulation. So he'd eventually asked JARVIS to find him something good, and his virtual butler had, as always, exceeded his hopes.

The website was nothing like what he had seen when he was going through college. It wasn't full of low-quality POV scenes or home-made 'step-siblings' having sex on the couch. JARVIS had probably paid to get to the site: it looked classy and discreet, without any advertising. And the video found...

“You do know my tastes, uh, J'?”

“I dare hope so, Mr. Stark,” JARVIS graciously agreed.

The scenario wasn't all that revolutionary. Two men, one much older, the other a serious case of twink, played a game of home intruder. The one in charge was a lovely bit, with sculpted muscles and grey-ish temple. He knew what he was doing, had a very nice cock. But he could have been anyone, for all Tony cared, because there was no way to look at anyone other than the young home-owner.

Tony was very flexible when it came to sex, pun intended. Men, women, neither and both, toping, bottoming, switching; who cared, so long as it was good? He'd done pretty much everything he could think of, from slow lovemaking in the dark to BDSM threesomes. If he was to be entirely honest, he usually didn't even know what he was planning to do until he was doing it. Surprise was half of the fun.

But, well. Loki, if Loki was really his name, immediately made his mind go crazy. He needed to take the old guy's place, and he needed to shove Loki against a table and fuck him like there was no tomorrow.

That had been the beginning of his obsession, and it was all downhill from there.

Loki Silvertongue, as he called himself, was definitely one of the big stars of the industry, as he would learn quickly. There were about three dozens full videos from the last six years floating around the internet, and JARVIS found all of them. A tall, thin man with a mane of black hair, green eyes sparkling with mischief and snakefangs piercings on his pale lips, Loki was beautiful, and he knew it.

It didn't take long for Tony to retrace his carreer. Apparently, he'd started on early, maybe even before he was entirely legal. The oldest video was, in fact, homemade; in it, Loki appeared to be making out with his boyfriend, though there was no way to know for sure if the relationship was real. There he appeared young and almost shy, with a smile to make the world fall to its knees. The video was eleven minutes long, in total. The few audible words in it were Danish. Loki was shown sucking on his boyfriend's dick, then lying on his back while getting fuck. Thanos, the boyfriend, never showed up on camera, but his voice called Loki a _smukke hore_ -a beautiful slut. Loki's laugh and progressively hitched breathing seemed to imply he did agree.

That wasn't Tony's favorite. As the videos became more professional, Loki obviously found his style. The demure smile became a showing grin as Loki went from a lovely sub to a real sex beast.

“Come on, Mister Osborn. Is that really all you can do?”

That line was engraved in Tony's mind. It came from a twenty-seven minutes long movie in which Loki fucked a businessman right on his desk. He was provocking, confident, even annoying. He had pale, endless legs and the cutest of ass as he leaned down his stomach on the furniture. Everytime, Tony hoped Mister Osborn would have the common sense to give Loki the spanking he so obviously hoped to get, and everytime he was disappointed.

The piercings appeared about halfway through his young carreer. His face had lost all of its young roundness, cheekbones sharp and smike wicked. When he appeared dressed, he dressed like a hobo out of a fashion magazine. He didn't whine, nor did he order his partners around. He just stated what he wanted, and what he wanted was to be owned; and it was convenient because Tony couldn't imagine a man anywhere in the world who wouldn't want to own that pale piece of a man.

There were hours and hours of Loki-porn. Loki giving blowjobs was a big part of them -obviously, that was how he got the name, and it often ended the game for Tony right away to look at his hollow cheeks and wet lips and green, teasing eyes. When he got fucked, by one man or two men or a mistress with big toys, Loki was either an amazing comedian, or he was a genuine slut, always needing more and more and more until he was actually _screaming_. The few negative comments complained about that, that he was being too intense. Tony was inclined to disagree. He had never seen such genuine, raw pleasure as when Loki, here and there, seemed to lose total control of himself under the care of his partner.

The mission ended and Tony was back home. He let go of his videos for a while; not for long. He slept with a gorgeous Stark Industries delivery man, and it was nice, but not perfect. He slept with a gorgeous French scientist whom had been a friend of his for years, and she was great and tight, but it was _not perfect_.

He watched Loki getting roughly fucked by a blond brute that he called 'brother' in the back of a pick-up truck, and it was perfect.

Tony wasn't one to stay in denial for long, and he quickly came to the conclusion: He had to get that loud, high-maintenance twink to himself.

Most people would probably have worried about their public image. Tony was vaguely concerned with Pepper's reaction, but that was all. He was rather sure SI's public relations department was there for that sort of things. So, without further hesitation, he dictated a simple message to JARVIS and asked to make sure that it made it to Loki Silvertongue. Attached was a picture of himself, winking over his glasses. Hopefully, that would prove his identity.

_Hi,_

_The name's Tony Stark. Yeah, the one and only. I'm a big fan of your work._

_Name your price, name your place._

_I'm looking forward to doing business with you._

_-TS_

He was actually ruffled when two days passed without a sign of life. JARVIS said he had sent the message to the owner of the last studio where Loki had performed, and that he had received an auto-reply warning that the artists didn't respond to fanmail.

“That's just offensive. Keep pushing, J'.”

JARVIS did. Tony waited. He went on with his daily business, because he was not a desperate man who couldn't do anything when thinking about sex. Heck, he was Tony Stark. He could have a threesome and solve equations at the same time. No big deal.

Still, he couldn't help but check his messages a couple dozen times a day. Who was this actor to think he could just ignore his very polite and very flattering request? Out of some sort of restrained pride, that night, even though the frustration was big, he wanked off to some other pornstar. A lovely girl, for a change.

It wasn't quite the same, but he decided to blame it on the poor acting.

Finally, after five days, JARVIS warned him -and right in the middle of a phone call with Nick Fury, no less- that he had received a personalised message from one Swedish friend. He hung up on the director, heart beating, and immediately opened the mail. There were long lines of text, answering his short message. He scanned them rapidly, looking for a time and place.

 _Dear Mr. Stark,_ it said, and wasn't it nice to imagine those words in his mouth?

_I am flattered to know that an Avenger -you, no less!- is enjoying my humble work. How unexpected, that the carreer I chose would lead me to do my part to save the world. You must be a man under a lot of pressure, and it pleases me to know that I am helping you to relax after a long day of work._

_Unfortunately, while your offer is truly touching, I have no choice but to refuse. You see, I have a public of loyal, dedicated fans. If they were to hear that I enjoyed a_ date _(for that is what you offer, isn't it?) with a man such as you, without them knowing about it, then how could they not deduce that I am betraying them? That everything that they saw was a lie? I would never want to break their heart so._

_If it is any comfort, Mr. Stark, do know that you appear to me as the most fuckable of the Avengers, nevermind what Vanity Fair said about Captain America.  
_

_With great regards,_

_Loki Silvertongue_

There was an attachment. Half struck by disbelief, Tony opened it. It was a picture of Loki, mimicking his own photo: he wore a green shirt, a pendant of a hammer, and black sunglasses, lowered on the tip of his nose. He winked at the camera.

He looked so good. He had taken that picture _just for him_.

Then the pleased thought vanished. _I have no choice but to refuse_. What the fuck?

He reread the email, as shocked as he was pissed. The words hadn't changed while he looked at Loki's pretty face. It was still a no.

And not even a 'no, you're not my style'. Or 'no, I don't sleep with fans'. Nope. It was more ridiculous than that. A stupid restriction probably just made to piss him off. How could he? Tony had a reputation and fans, too. Heck, half of his fans were under twelve years old. And he acted like _he_ would be the one to be in trouble if it came to be known?

“JARVIS,” he said, before his rational thoughts could get on with it, “prepare to type a reply.”

The studio was nicer than expected. Though he had feared a shady appartment hidden in an alley behind a dumpster, AssGuard Studios apparently made more money than he thought. They owned a the first two stories of a modern brick building, and a discreet sign that welcomed him into a nice, well-lit hall. The secretary was a cute punk girl with a bright red mohawk who smiled upon noticing him.

“Mr. Stark,” she said. “You're early.”

“I wanted to get comfortable,” he said. “And I'm not used to driving myself, to be honest. Am I expected?”

“Oh, yes. Please follow me.”

The set was nearly in place. He had read the scenario, but somehow, his brain had skipped the description of the location, and he stared in bewilderment at the brightly colored world around of him. It was an expensive living room from the 80's meet a Roman-style villa. It was... Bright and luxurious and weird. Technicians were drilling a -couch? Bed? Thing? Into the ground, while a couple of people were chatting cheerfully. They were all dressed like cosplayers from a space-opera show that would have been cancelled right after the pilot, and didn't pay much mind to him.

It occurred to him for the first time to wonder what the _fuck_ he was doing here.

“Uh, I -didn't realise there would be so many people.”

“It was a request from Mr. Odinsson,” the secretary explained with a smile. “He'd meant to do a public scene for a while. But don't worry, there's the confidentiality clause, and once you go through make-up, nobody will be able to tell. Hey, everyone? Hey, everyone -thank you- this is Mr. Stark, he's here already. We're staying on schedule, Mr. Tytan will be here very soon, and Mr. Odinsson should be joining us in about twenty minutes. Everyone is doing okay?”

The background actors nodded pleasantly, one raising their hand to ask if it was serious that she had smudged her make-up, another coming forward to welcome Tony. He nodded awkwardly. Right. Mr. Odinsson. So that was the Silvertongue's real name. Twenty minutes. Oh, he was looking forward to _that_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments to tell me what you think, it's greatly appreciated! The next chapters are planned, but not written yet, so don't hesitate if you have any desires or suggestions.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki's costume is loosely inspired by sillyvantas' lovely art on tumblr. You can find the specific drawing here
> 
> http://sillyvantas.tumblr.com/post/170317675296/

After the initial welcome on the set by the background actors, Tony was introduced to a pair of technicians, one young man and one forty-something woman, who helped him get into his costume. They had the generosity of escorting him to some semblance of privacy to do so, because fuck paradoxes, apparently. And there he was handed the strangest outfit of his entire life -which was saying something.

“Ah -perfect!” The man said gleefully when he stepped from behind the folding screen. “It fits you per-fec-tly, Mr. Stark. Now remember: this is you, now, this is the character. You have to own it.”

Tony was tempted to ask the technician if this was his first experience easing someone into acting. He did not feel that 'perfectly' was an adequate description of how the costume fit him. There were royal golden sandals, grey loose pants, a blue tunic with red embroidery -and then the weirdest part: some big sort of golden bathrobe with just the one loose sleeve. He'd always been one for comfort over style, but this?

“I thought I was playing a dictator.”

“Yes. A space dictator. Sit down, let's do your hair.”

So he sat, with a growing unease the likes of which he had not felt since his very beginnings in the public sphere as a young adult, back when he was trying to find the balance between owning up to his image and not caring so much that the tabloids could destroy his self-esteem. He felt now like he had back then, trying to decide whether he was actually in control, or if he was just holding on to the illusion of it as his bad decisions were about to blow up in his face.

“Here, swallow this.”

He looked up. The older lady was handing him a glass of water paired with two little blue pills.

“I don't need that,” he said, offended.

“The shooting can last up to three hours, my dear. You will need it.”

Well. That aside, he wasn't so sure of how he was going to get it up anyway. He'd certainly never done this with such a strange crowd, nevermind the technicians going around and the nervous thought of cameramen and directors judging his performance. Heck, when he'd told Loki he would fuck him on camera, he had pictured them on one of these big endless white bed, alone in a luminous room.

“Well, put it down. I don't like being handed things.”

The woman didn't comment, though she squinted in a way that said she didn't like divas. Tony grimaced as the enthusiastic boy behind him pulled at his hair with a comb. He swallowed the pills with a somewhat dry throat, wondering what Loki would think if he ran away.

Then, before he could enjoy that thought any longer, footsteps echoed in their strange décor, and a beautiful voice broke the chatter of conversations:

“Hey, everyone! Oh, Fandral, this is a _good look_ on you. He's not here yet, Nat'? Hello, hello -Eirikur, hi! And oh, who is this? _Welcome_ , Tony Stark.”

 _There_ was Loki, his obsession standing in the flesh in front of him. Tony's heart leaped in his chest. His first impression was _tall as fuck_. The camera somehow never did justice to the fact that Loki was a skinny giant, and as he stood to face him, emotions fluttering, he still had to look up to see his face. And his face, oh, and his body, ah -Tony had prepared a dozen lines to make a good first impression himself, but he couldn't remember any single one of them in the instant when he saw Loki right in front of him.

He was _real_. He'd made it out of the computer screen and was looking at him, and Tony's weird cloak-y coat brushed his leg, so he was real, so close he could touch him, and his eyes were looking at him, bright green eyes, with a smile of excitation and dimples in his cheeks -he was-

“You're beautiful, you know that?"

Loki laughed out loud, not shocked, like he was used to people reacting to him that way. Tony managed to smile, trying to remember that he wasn't a shy virgin. Loki, already, was twirling and outstretching his arms:

“Yes, you like it?”

His voice had such a lovely accent, in real life -goodness, his voice was real. Tony needed a moment to get past that and realise what his -his lover to be, oh dear- was refering to. He had been dressed accordingly to match the background and Tony's own clothing, except he didn't look ridiculous. He looked like a sexy alien. His long black hair, usually framing his pale gothic look, had been pulled back and tied with what ressembled a backward tiara. He was wearing a long green sort of coat that rose high around the back of his throat, suggesting a cage, and green -skirts? Underneath, it was all skin-tight black fabric, clinging to endless legs and his chest rising slowly with his calm breathing.

It took that much for Tony to realise his own body was overreacting a little. He swallowed tightly, trying to calm his breathing, glad the loose pants hid his erection for now -because he, too, fucked paradoxes. The pill had done its part, but now, seeing Loki, almost feeling him, it reminded him of exactly what he was here for. Why he had decided that this was worth everything.

“If I didn't like it, I wouldn't be doing something so crazy. You got style, Loki Silvertongue.”

Loki smiled, almost like he wasn't used to being complimented. He sat down next to Tony casually, while Eirikur, the hair guy, went back to trying to style him. He hoped he didn't look as ridiculous as he felt, or Loki was going to be nowhere near as impressed as he hoped.

“Porn sounds crazy right until you're doing it. In the end, it's really less wild than you would think.”

“Are you saying I'll be disappointed?”

“Oh, no. I'm saying there's no reason to be scared.”

“I'm not scared."

“Of course not. You're working with a professional.”

Loki's entire posture was a bit confusing: light and sincere and teasing and beautiful. He was smiling, his snakefangs the one thing that broke the design of his space identity. The older lady was back and she was crouching in front of the star, and Tony watched as Loki closed his eyes in a fully relaxed way to let her put make-up on him: first some concealer, the kind Tony knew because it was always used on TV, then, framing his eyes, a dramatic shade of pink that matched with -oh, hey, Loki was wearing nail polish.

“Won't that get messy?” He asked softly as the lady painted a thick line beneath Loki's lips.

“Hopefully,” Loki murmured without moving, accomodating the technician.

Tony was next. Apparently pleased that his hair was now on strike against gravity, Eirikur painted his own face with electric blue paint that felt very thick. Tony was pretty sure it didn't look anywhere as good on him as it did Loki, but then the actor whistled.

“My, you should wear eyeliner more often, Mr. Stark.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Don't squint like that, it's not dry yet,” Eirikur grumbled.

“I'm not. I can't be the first person to suggest it, am I? You got those big brown eyes -any more work on that and you could probably win your next fight by making the bad guys crawl on their knees for you.”

“I'll settle for just you, to begin with."

Loki laughed, and Tony relaxed minutely, feeling he was starting to get a grasp of his co-star's personality, and appreciating that he was not only incredibly sexy -but fun, too. He relaxed a little more comfortably into the couch as their assistants left them alone, noticing that cameramen had appeared and were starting to fix the two cameras. Oh god, how long did they still have?

“I was being serious,” Loki said, startling him. “Don't be nervous. Once the cameras are rolling, you'll forget about them. I promise.”

“I've done crazier stuff than this,” Tony said, hoping to sound casual.

“I'm sure you have,” Loki replied light-heartedly. He was also leaning back into the cushions, smiling at him, looking like a god on earth. “So how do you like our scenario?”

“It feels a bit... exagerated. Did it have to include a crowd?”

“We've been having a lot of requests for it. And I figured it would make it less likely you'd be recognised.”

“Right. We don't want that.”

“Plus, I know everyone here. They're cool, you'll see.”

Tony considered replying that the background actors all being buddies of the guy he was going to have sex with in front of them was not quite reassuring, but before he could decide whether to point it out or not, the sound of the door into the lobby was closing -and there was the sound of a lock being pulled.

Like when Loki had made his entrance, everyone paused and stopped talking. Unlike Loki, though, the man who'd walked in was not all smiles and comments. He was a tall, muscular man with biceps the size of Tony's thighs that somehow fitted into a tight black buttoned shirt. As he walked through, he checked in with the cameramen, with Eirikur and his partner, with the crowd of onlookers, and everyone was still smiling, but standing a little straighter. At last, the man came in front of he and Loki, and for the first time, his lips pulled up to reveal his teeth. Tony understood it was a smile a few instants later, when a hand was outstretched his way.

“Mr. Stark,” the man said. “I wasn't sure you would actually come.”

“Well, it's not done yet.”

The smile didn't twitch, but Tony was not sure the man was amused by his joke.

“Hey, sweetie,” said Loki with his demure smile. “What do you think?”

“I think you're wearing too much clothes,” said the man, then he straightened up. “Places, now.”

 

* * *

 

Sakaar: a forgotten planet, fallen to the hands of an excentric yet merciless tyrant, who turned it into his own private dictatorship. A world full of trash and lost souls, desperate and trying to survive.

Tony: The Grandmaster, ruling it all. Monsters and warriors would fight for his entertainment; enemies and would-be rebels were executed in clever, gruesome way; and anything that was deemed pretty enough was brought over to him for his consideration.

Loki: a lost space traveller, claiming to be a prince thrown out of his kingdom by injustice and treason. A beautiful thing, found wandering in the wild, trying to fend for himself and not doing a great job at it. Holding his chin up.

Tony licked his lips. The round eyes of cameras were on him, a man was holding a fishpole with a microphone attached to it close to him. He breathed in, and out, and closed his eyes. Eirikur had told him to live in the role, didn't he?

“Well,” he said, making a large hand gesture. “Let me see.”

The actor who had brought Loki around helpfully pushed him forward, so the lost prince would face not a meter away from Tony. He stood proud and calm, and went so far as to smile at Tony.

“So you are the master of this place.”

“I'm the Grandmaster, pretty thing. I'm the master of all the places.”

“You look like a man of power,” Loki agreed readily. “Perhaps you would be powerful enough to tell these brutes to unhand me and free me?”

He gestured with his hands, tied together with a pair of manacles painted neon green. Tony grinned. He was being so arrogant.

“Why would I free you, tell me, uh- what is it? What do you call yourself?”

Loki gave him a wicked smile, and moved one step forward to the white couch he was sitting on. The small crowd was staring at him, some murmuring amongst themselves with intrigued looks on their face.

“Why, Grand _master_. My name is Loki, and where I come from, men come from all around the planet to bow to me - _ah_!”

He punctuated his sentence with a little wince of pain as the guard stopped him from coming closer to the throne by pulling on his arm. Tony, though, was sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes blown with pleased excitation at the novelty of it all.

“You're a daring boy -he's a boy, right? Yes. You're a daring boy, little Loki, but you're not answering me. What do I gain if I free you, mh? Because I like you tied up as you are.”

“Oh, Grandmaster,” Loki said, looking up from underneath his painted lashes, “I promise you, you will get something from me that you will never have had from anyone else.”

“Vague,” Tony criticized.

“I'm _very_ good with my mouth, Grandmaster.”

“Good at what? Wasting my time?”

“You people do have cocks, don't you?” Loki interrupted, the loud boy, smiling. “I'll make you a deal, Mr. Grandmaster. I'll suck you the best I can. If you don't like it, you'll do with me as you please; but if I am right, and if it is the best blowjob you ever received-”

“I will still do with you as I please, yes. I like your style, little prince.”

Onlookers snickered at Loki's little scoff of irritation, but he was quick to shrug it off.

“I'm not going to be any good to you with that brute keeping me so far away.”

Tony gave that some thought, then conceded the point. He gestured, and Loki's escort vanished, not without giving him a new shove forward. He stumbled at Tony's feet, kneeling with the grace of one who was used to doing it. Licking his lips, he stroked his cheek on Tony's thigh like a big cat looking for cuddles. Tony obliged, running his fingers through Loki's long hair, finding it soft and ever so softly curled around his hand.

“When I'm through with you,” Loki murmured, eyes shut and sighing like he was enjoying this, “every person in this room will be ready to kill to get me for themselves.”

“If you're that good, I'll kill them all myself,” Tony retorted, smirking.

Loki's eyes flashed open, with a savage glint of victory in them. He picked himself up, and Tony tensed as he felt his warm breath brushing against his stomach. Leaning forward, Loki, hands bound, pressed his nose into Tony's belly. Casually, he trailed his lips down, wet skin connecting underneath his bellybutton with Tony's entire nervous system for a second.

Then his teeth closed on the hem of his pants and pulled down, clumsily because Tony was sitting, and his nose and his breath were stroking his cock and he shuddered because _this was happening_ , at last.

“Here, help yourself, beautiful,” he murmured, taking himself in hand.

The mix of viagra and Loki's eyes as he looked at him from way down, daring to make fun of his order, had him fully hard by now, leaking precum and desperation. Then the beautiful prisoner bowed, no, prostrated himself to him, a tall form all dedicated to leaning down on him. Loki rubbed his nose and forehead on his cock, like some strange sort of worship, then, closing his eyes, he took him in: just his lips first, rounding on the tip and gently wetting it; then he was pulling back, and instead gave a long lick from Tony's fingers at the base to the top again, maddening the soft flesh underneath.

“I hope this isn't the best you can do,” Tony provoked, hoping it wasn't obvious how short his breath was.

Loki hummed, not bothered, not looking up; all lost in his art, like Tony was not even linked to the cock he was adoring. Again, he took him in his mouth, and this time lowered himself on its length. His warm wet mouth moved slowly, tongue caressing the curve of his dick. As he moved back up, he started suckling, pulling at his skin like it was all a game.

It was slow, elaborate; Tony had seen Loki sucking a lot of dicks on video before, he knew it was his technic, to bring slow madness to his master, his victim, who knew? But he had never guessed it to be this way. Loki's blowjobs were performances, and he would have admired all of it except his stomach was on fire, balls tensing and breath hitching.

His right hand found itself tangled deep into Loki's hair, close to his scalp, and he squeezed hard enough to get a delightful whimper of pain out of his lover. Excitation slowly losing the battle to the sheer need for more, he shoved himself closer to the edge of the seat, spreading his legs and pulling at a fistful of Loki's hair, hard, to shove his face between them.

Loki gave a whimper of pain that made him want to hurt him more, but he seemed to get the hint. He started moving his lips up and down Tony's entire length, taking him further in. An annoying camera got in the way, wanting to film Loki's eyes blown wide and his lips stretched hard, and Tony had all the trouble in the world not shoving it away, eager for the sight himself.

“Come on, baby,” Tony said, voice hard with desire. “You can do better than that.”

Loki could, and he did. Heavy tears rounded in the corners of his eyes, but he did, and Tony cursed and found his second hand in his hair, holding on to the base of his skull and pulling him closer to fuck his mouth desperately. Loki shuddered and gagged, he pulled out quickly, but then he was back on him, sucking, swallowing him tight, his chin wet with saliva and paint and his eyes shut tight.

“That's it,” Tony said, panting hard himself, now. “That's it. Loki, yes, yes, fuck... Fuck!”

He groaned it the last time, feeling an impulse like an electrical shock in his belly, grasping at Loki's head desperatly to come into his precious throat, shuddering at his strangled noises. He pulled out with a deep moan of pleasure, just in time to splash Loki's open lips with white semen. With one hand, he stroked hard at himself, drawing out the long, precious seconds of his orgasm, holding Loki still with the other, marking his face, because he had never seen the interest in that before, not once in his life, but now, just now, he wanted Loki covered in _him_ , and Loki was holding out his tongue...

“Tell me how much you liked it,” Loki rasped, the slut, eager to hear about himself.

“Fuck you,” Tony cursed him, holding back a moan as the pleasure faded already, perfection meant only for an instant, and -“fuck you”, he repeated, and pulled Loki closer and closing his lips hard on his, tasting himself, tasting Loki's sweat on his cupid's bow, tasting the nerve and the electricity and feeling himself being driven crazy all over again, needing to shove Loki right on the couch and to fuck him like there were no freaking tomorrow, needing to feel his hard delicate body writhing underneath his and his hands squeezing his flesh...

“Hey, hey, I said cut!” Interrupted a voice. “This is it, that's done!”

Loki was the first to pull away; but Tony felt he didn't want to. He felt himself smiling, grinning with the certainty that Loki wanted him as bad as the other way around, that Loki wanted nothing else than to get out of the stupid disguise and fuck him-

Oh yeah. There were... People around. And the director. Who looked pretty grim, considering the scene they had just shot. Hadn't they done good?

“I think there's potential for more,” Loki remarked, and Tony's heart leaped.

“I think I'm in charge here,” the director said, throwing Loki a wet towel for him to wash his face, then turning to Tony. He looked like he wanted to say something, then refrained, then considered, then finally: “But I guess, if you're up to it.”

“I am,” Tony said, mouth dry, dick out, head light.

The man frowned, almost like he was angry at the agreement. Then he shrugged impatiently.

“Everyone takes a break. Fandral, tell me what shots we missed. And Loki...”

As the people started moving again, as Tony caught up with his breath, Loki did look up, face pink from the smeared make-up and the recent choking. The director, without warning, shoved a hand into Loki's hair, emulating Tony's own gesture and bringing him close enough for a hard kiss. Tony watched, feeling dizzy and confused. He realised for the first time the director was even taller than Loki.

“Good job,” the director said when he let go of Loki, running a hand over his mouth to remove any make-up that could have gotten on him. “ _Min smukke hore_.”

“Love you too, Thanos,” Loki breathed out, waiting for his lover, boyfriend, director? To walk away before he fell back onto the couch, grabbed a bottle of water hidden from view and closed his eyes into a sigh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more to come! Comment plz?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day, I'll write porn. Just porn. And I won't start wondering about the scenario and the angst.

Well, Tony had never been one for Viagra before, either. But like porn, it turned out that maybe he had been missing out.

He had never felt the need to boost himself, previously. Give him a pretty man or a dominant lady, and he could usually do his thing without any additional stimulation. But the very idea of getting two orgasms in a row, both with the pretty thing that was Loki Odinsson, was an enticing one.

Mostly, anyway. Since Thanos had departed, there had been an uneasy feeling in his chest. He knew there was something wrong about this whole scene, about everything around him. But what was he to say, or do?

As soon as the director had left, announcing that everyone was to take a break before 'Scene 2', the studio had started bursting with life again. Technicians rushed around to fix the background, cameramen looked at their results. The make-up boy was back, brushing Loki's hair back ever so slightly and waving a fan at his face. An unknown woman was at Tony's side, handing him wet towels to clean himself with. Nobody gave any indication of what they had thought of the scene. It was like Loki's throat hadn't been wrapped around his dick two minutes earlier, and Tony found himself glancing at his partner to check the drying semen on his face to make sure it was all real before Loki wiped it off.

The need that had coursed through his nerves and blood after the blowjob had subsided, but he still shivered from the memory of it: that kiss of desire and electricity, the desperate need for more. It had been a shared moment, he had known from Loki's breath and his hands. How desperate he had been to turn him over and shove himself in his tight flesh, to cover his body with his and own him; but how desperate Loki had been to get more, to open his legs and take him...

Except, had he, really?

“So, are you an amazing actor, or do you really enjoy giving head?” He asked. It didn't come out as casually as he had hoped.

Loki looked up, like he was wondering if the question was really for him. There was something so absurd about him then: beautiful pink lips, hair debauched, a nameless man patting his forehead with a towel. A cherished, precious cocksucker. He wondered how many men had had the chance to see him like this, after the camera had stopped rolling. Then he decided he didn't want to know, and almost regretted his question. Except Loki smiled at him, a content grin of victory.

“I _am_ an amazing actor,” he said. “But I also very much enjoy my job, yes. Thank you so much, Victor, I'll be fine.” That last bit was for the technician, who dutifully walked away. Then, lightly: “You have a very nice cock, if that was your question.”

“Ten years a superhero, and I'm finally validated.”

Loki burst out laughing, a surprised and pleasant laugh. Tony stared at him, unable to help himself, amazed by the duality of the sex professionnal and the beautiful kid.

“I mean it,” Loki said fondly. “It was very nice. I was worried when we agreed to your offer that you'd be one of those rich perverts who think they're good at sex because everyone tries to flatter them. I'm glad Thanos insisted.”

“It sounds like you're talking from experience,” Tony remarked, trying to decide what he thought of the fact that Loki had not wanted him -and that he was here because of his grumpy, huge boyfriend. Slash director. 

“Two words: Justin Hammer.”

“Please tell me you're joking.”

“Am not. That was back when I considered being a high-end prostitute. Want to hear something worse?”

“I really don't.”

“Leopard speedo.”

“Oh, _Christ_! Ugh. Now I want to put him in jail again.” 

Again, Loki was laughing, so carefree and light that Tony almost didn't feel like puking. Almost. Those were things he had never wanted to know, and would have to bleach from his brain one way or another. But it was also Loki chatting with him like a friend, telling him stories that, although horrifying, were parts of him. Proving quietly that, no, he was not seeing  _him_ like a rich pervert.

“I'm gonna grab a drink in the next room,” Loki said, standing up and smiling. “You coming?”

“Do we have the time before Thanos is back?”

“Probably."

In the next room was only a buffet table, a bunch of chairs, and spare materials: plastic boxes piled in a corner, labeled with  _wigs_ or  _lubes_ . There was a small fridge filled with non-alcohol drinks -which was fine by Tony, who had done enough nonsense today without breaking his resolve-, and on the table were a coffee machine and a selection of snacks. 

“Ah,” Loki sighed, sinking into a chair with a bottle of sweet iced tea and a tiny bag of pretzels. “I just hate the taste of sperm.”

“Ah. Sorry?”

“No, no. I get it. It's hot. I love being made to swallow. And I look good doing it, don't I? But -yuk. At least, the artificial one is nice. Tastes like powdered sugar.”

“You drink artificial sperm?”

“Just for the occasionnal re-take. Looking up at the camera for the point of view, for example. There are always additional takes to make before the final edit.”

“I'd say you're ruining the magic, but considering that blowjob, I'll just shut up.”

“Ah!” Loki chuckled, looking very pleased. “I do hope you have some strenght left for act two.”

“I should manage,” Tony confirmed. He stopped his choice on a box of salted almonds and sat down to open his juice box, looking at Loki in unmasked curiosity. “So this is your life, uh?” He asked, after a few moments. “You can really live from doing... this?”

“Yes,” Loki said, with no hesitation, nor shame, nor visible interest. “If you're good at it.”

“And humble.”

“And humble.”

“Doesn't it get... Don't you get tired of it?”

“Occasionally. Do you get tired from saving the world?”

“I don't exactly have the time to get tired,” Tony replied, scratching at his beard a bit awkwardly. “Um, I just mean-”

“Yes, Tony Stark. I am an adult and I am consenting,” Loki cut him off, rolling his eyes, before his lips pulled up in a smirk. “I enjoy having sex, I have a nice ass, and I am shaming my parents. And I am fine with those things. Alright?”

Tony opened his mouth to reply, then shut it up, embarrassed. He had known, of course -they'd made  _him_ sign a form to prove that he was doing this by his own choice, and there had even been a smaller form hidden in it, allowing him to alert the agency that he was being forced to sign. Obviously, the studio wasn't shady. And even more obviously, Loki was not the type of man to let himself be forced into things he didn't want to do.

Also, there was something to hearing Loki giving his full name.

“I see a lot of fucked up things, when saving the world,” he argued after a pause. “I just wanted to be sure that you weren't in need of any saving, before we get back in there.”

Loki's defensive stance held for a moment longer, and then his smile became less stiff and more amused. He lowered his eyes to his tea.

“That's... A very nice sentiment. And I would enjoy watching you explain to Miss Pepper Potts why you suddenly have a live-in pornstar.”

“Did your research, uh?”

“Well, I had a feeling you had done yours,” Loki retorted easily, smiling.

“Pepper caught me doing worse things. But I guess -I'm just happy you weren't faking out there,” he admitted.

“It's not always a gratifying job. Some men seem to think that admitting to liking sex is agreeing to being a toy. And I get pissed when people look at me like I'm a sin on two legs. I know I am. I don't need anyone to tell me, like it's a bad thing. But mostly -I love what I do.” He looked up, and the serious tone he had affected for those last sentences melted into lighter words: “And I do plan to have more fun with you before I allow you to leave this studio.”

Tony smiled; grateful for Loki's reassurances, pleased with his confidence.

“Well, I'd be offended if you didn't. Plus, your fans deserve the best.”

“Mmh. The great Loki Silvertongue and the amazing Tony Stark. That is a sight worth a million dollars, and all available for the low cost of 16$ a month.”

“That's all?”

“Did you or did you not visit my website?"

“Yes. I didn't notice the cost.”

“Of course you didn't,” Loki said with a laugh. “Well, not all men who need a good show can afford me, Mr. Stark. I have to give them a chance.”

“So generous. Say, do I get to make requests?”

“Ah, that'll have to be negociated with the director.”

“Your boyfriend.”

“Himself. What did you have in mind exactly?”

* * *

 

Back on the set, and Thanos had been waiting for them. He said so, specifically. And glared at Tony.

“I'm sorry, darling,” Loki said. “We were just chatting.”

“That's not exactly what you're here for, is it?” Thanos asked. It was hard to know if he was answering his boyfriend or talking to Tony, staring at him while squeezing an arm around Loki.

One thing was for sure at this point: Thanos didn't like Tony, and the feeling was about mutual. He just couldn't get it. Why would a man accept -even insist, according to Loki- that his boyfriend sleep with other men, on film, nonetheless, and then being angry at those same men for doing that exactly? It might have been pure jealousy talking, the irritation of knowing that this man shared Loki's bed other night, but there was just something off about him. His smile was as disconcerting as his bad mood was annoying.

Beside, there was something else in the way the couple was standing. Loki was a power bottom -a very lovely one at that. He was bratty and proud and charming. He was tall and beautiful and he knew it. It felt wrong that he would hang at the arm of a man even taller than him, looking up to him, being pleasant and kissing him and calling him  _darling_ . Maybe it was just their dynamic. Maybe Loki enjoyed domestic life and syrupy pet names, out of the line of the camera. But then, didn't it mean that he wasn't really enjoying his time with Tony, even though he clearly did?

He'd spent the last forty years of his life working hard on avoiding drama, and here he was. Fucking a pornstar, and getting tangled in his confused feelings. That was just his luck.

“Well, it's not like we talked of the weather, either,” Loki said pleasantly. “I had a pretty great idea and I wanted to ask Tony what he thought.”

“What sort of idea?”

“Well, we were thinking that, as far as dictators go, the Grand Master would probably want to make sure that Loki at least remotely depends of him.”

“So?” Thanos insisted, clearly not appreciating to its fair value Tony's insight into the mind of his character. Dick.

“Don't be like that, sweetheart,” Loki smiled. “I know how you like to hear me beg. Come on, let's do it.”

* * *

Scene number two: Sakaar, the follow-up.

There was some discussion about keeping the crowd of onlookers or not. Tony had wondered about the way things were decided on the set. Apparently, it all came down to Thanos deciding. He chose to believe that the bastard knew Loki's tastes, because Loki didn't protest one bit. But he still felt like the star should have voiced his concern himself.

“People asked for a public scene, we're giving them a public scene. Only Stark gets to fuck you, but Lucy's going to slap your ass and I at least want Fandral to get some mouth action. Have Stark share you like he's casual about it.”

Stark was glad he was being asked for his opinion, Stark almost said out loud. Then he decided it was best not to spoil the mood.

He was made to sit back on the couch -someone had cleaned it up from any trace of sweat, make-up, or come. The wonderous little blue pills had him getting back in with no effort, stroking himself to full hardness with a small shudder as he watched Loki stripping entirely, a technician making sure to tussle up his hair to perfection.

“Okay, Iron Man,” Thanos said as everyone prepared for the new shots. He came to him while Loki was getting his make-up done again. “Just stick it in, make him scream, and don't get excited. Understood?”

“How exactly did you decide this carreer was meant for you?”

“Look, I don't care who you are,” Thanos said impatiently. “We're doing the scene, just like you asked. We didn't discuss full anal in the price. Don't push your luck.”

“We didn't -what?” Tony asked, but the director was moving already, giving him one last annoyed look and leaving him to sit in general confusion. Wait -what price?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feed solely on angst and comments.


	4. Chapter 4

There wasn't time to ask questions around, and Tony didn't even have his phone with him to get JARVIS to figure things out for him. He almost demanded a time out until he could get the new facts to make sense, but Loki was coming up to him, perfect and painted with fake come and beautiful. He swallowed up his questions, still bothered. He stared at Loki, both trying to figure him out and amazed by the relaxed figure.

“You're very confident, you know that?” He heard himself say.

“I'm told I have every right to be,” Loki replied pleasantly. “Are you alright?”

“Sure, why? Is there something I should be tense about?”

He answered a little too quickly and a little too drily, almost challenging Loki. Was this all a lie? What was going on? What was he missing? Loki frowned and immediately he regretted his harsh tone.

“Sorry. It's -”

“No, I get it,” Loki said, and the hurt look was gone from his face, just like that, like it didn't happen. “It's okay. I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” Loki said. “Everyone's nervous when it comes to the big action. But I know you'll do great.”

“Everyone, places!” Thanos called out.

“Did you want to change anything? Another position?” Loki insisted, as everyone quickly moved around them.

Tony stared at him, confused and yearning for that soft look on his pretty face, but for all his reassurance, Loki's body was tense with urgency. The director was staring at them both impatiently. Tony shook his head, and Loki moved on to take his place.

* * *

Sakaar, the big action. 

The Grandmaster sat on the couch, sipping on a glass of water. A nameless actor fanned him as he pretended he was still catching up on his breath. His dick stood from his robes, still very hard.

Loki, the exiled prince, knelt on the floor. The neon green handcuffs had been removed only a few seconds ago by another background alien; he still knelt at his thin wrists, circled with red where the metal had rubbed at his skin.

“Well, Grandmaster,” he asked, arrogant. “Did I prove myself?”

“That was very, very nice,” Tony agreed. “Is there more where it came from?”

“Well,” Loki smiled thinly, slowly standing back up. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement, now.”

“I'm all ears.”

The cameras slowly turned around them, moving back as Loki grinned and confidently walked to Tony. The dictator shuddered pleasantly while the prince pressed his hands on his shoulders, then sat up on his thighs. His cock twitched with arousal as Loki brushed his hand through Tony's hair.

“I want gold and I want power,” he whispered pleasantly. “Give me your finest clothes, your best food. Give everyone in this room the order to obey _me_.”

“And?”

“And I'll be your slave.”

“ _Ah._ Say it again,” Tony ordered. His voice trembled a little. Loki's green eyes were fixed in his, so vibrant and playful. Speaking to _him_.

“Give me everything I want.”

“Not _that_.”

“Give me everything I demand...”

“Loki...”

“And I will be _yours_ ,” Loki relented, smirking down at him, knees on either side of his thighs and his ass on him and driving him crazy. His hand was brushing Tony's cheek. “I will be your thing. I will do everything you ask of me. How does that sound to you, _Grandmaster_?”

“Take off your pants,” Tony ordered. “And get on my dick.”

Loki laughed, a charming laugh. He didn't notice Tony gesturing toward one of the alien servants behind his back.

“Now, now. First, let's talk about what you can do for m- ah -what is this?!”

His hands were pulled behind his back by the woman who had approached discreetly, and before he had a chance to fight her back, the handcuffs were back, effectively rendering him powerless. Tony still sighed a little, missing the caress of his hands already.

“If you're going to be my slave, you'll have to be more obedient, sweetheart”, he remarked lightly.

“I do not like the way you negociate, grandmaster,” Loki said in an angry, breathless gasp.

“Agathe?” Tony simply called.

The servant woman smiled pleasantly, then took out of her pocket a neon green ball gag -the accessory department was clearly committed to the imagery. She pulled it out in front of Loki's face, but the prince growled and pulled back.

“I will not allow this,” he started to protest, but a man was already behind him and held his head still, strong fingers digging into his delicate cheeks. “Grandmaster-!” He started to shout out, but Agathe took advantage of it to shove the ball between his teeth. The leather tie clicked into place behind his skull, and he was reduced to a furious growl.

“Nice,” Tony commented.

Loki squinted his eyes at him in a look of rage, looking all the more delicious like this, left vulnerable and with his mouth forced open. Responding to a sudden impulse, Tony straightened up and licked his stretched lips, sliding his tongue between them and the gag. Loki whimpered. Tony was feeling out of breath and delighted.

“Up”, he ordered, and when Loki didn't move, he repeated: “Up, slave. I'm not yet sure about keeping you around.”

Loki finally knelt up on the couch, reluctantly. His costume was pretty complex, with straps and a belt and pangs of clothes, but Tony had had the entire thing explained to him by the costume designer, and it was a lot easier than it looked. He tore through the belt effortlessly, and with it went the entire lower part of the coat-thing. Loki squirmed, but Tony didn't give him time to change his mind before he pulled his pants down.

He smiled, thinking of all the times he had been watching such a scene from behind his computer screen, frustrated and aroused. Now Loki was there: pale cold skin that smelled of fruit shower gel, red hard dick curving against his soft stomach, trembling thighs just there for him to touch, to strike-

“Nh!” Loki complained around his gag, shuddering.

“Such a beautiful specimen,” Tony said, stroking the skin he had just slapped, marvelling at seeing it reddening already. “You know, I think I really do want to keep you forever. What about you, mmh, little prince?”

As he spoke, he started running his fingers up and down Loki's length, not that he needed the stimulation. The actor closed his eyes, but his hips bucked into Tony's hand as he fisted his cock harder, marvelling at his pretty face.

“I think he likes it, Grandmaster,” Agathe supplied.

“Of course he does, why wouldn't he, mmh?” Tony murmured, smiling. He let go of Loki's cock, pleased to see him push his cock into the air in frustration. “Sit, sweetheart. I won't tell you again.”

Loki's eyes flashed with irritation, but he didn't need long to obey. Tony held his breath as the actor, kneeling on either side of his legs, sank down onto him, his tight asshole stretching to accommodate him. He could feel the wetness of lube, Loki had prepared for this, but it was still an almost painful fit. How was that possible? He knew from sight that Loki had fucked dozens of men. It shouldn't be fair for him to feel like a virgin.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured. “You're amazing. Now move.”

As he spoke, a woman, Lucy, with bright red make-up and a white wig, came to sit next to them on the couch. When Loki was too slow to obey, Lucy leaned forward to slap his ass-cheek -hard. The noise echoed on the entire set, and Loki shuddered in pain.

“The Grandmaster told you to move,” she said pleasantly.

Loki obeyed, eyes shut, jaws kept apart by the gag now wet with saliva. He started moving up, then back down, sheating Tony's erection deep into his tight body, then up again, the pressure moving with him, squeezing at the head then warming his full length again, and taking a slow, delightful rhythm.

Tony's hands naturally went at his hips, holding tight and guiding his movements for fear he would slow down. For all Loki had been a priceless cocksucker, there was no way he could have been as good as his ass was, and the movement of his body, the heat of his pale skin and the staggering breath in his chest. He was real, he was here, and Tony was enjoying him like he knew he would never enjoy something, someone, ever again.

“Faster, darling,” he demanded, panting. “And look at me. Look me in the eyes. I want to see how you like this.”

Loki obeyed, impossibly beautiful, with nothing but his dirty face to make him real. He started moving faster, his cock bouncing as he fucked himself on Tony, panting around his gag, eyes feverish. Lucy was spreading his asscheeks for the camera, and what a sight it must have been, he thought dizzily, to watch himself forcing that delightful little ring again and again...

As Loki obeyed him, the small crowd of onlookers was coming closer. Two or three men were pulling out their cock and stroking themselves at the sight, while the women cooed or whistled at the prince's movements or at his small moans when the effort to move up and down became too much.

“He's a beautiful piece, Grandmaster, you pick them well.”

“Aw, is the wittle pwince getting tired already?”

“By the stars, you don't see a lovely ass like that in every galaxy.”

It was hard to care about anyone else when he had Loki looking down at him between his painted lashes, a trail of saliva on his chin from the strain of the gag. But as his pleasure was growing with every additionnal moment of Loki on him and he felt himself getting a bit too close to the end, he caught him by the hair to pull his face down to him. The kiss was a messy, sloppy affair that had their public cheering. Loki's body was a trembling mess on top of his, exhaustion and desire clearly taking their toll on him.

“Lucy, get the fuck away,” he ordered.

The woman moved immediately; Tony didn't wait longer than that to push hard at Loki's chest, debalancing him. With his arms tied behind his back, the prince could only fall on his back on the couch where Tony shoved him. Before he could recover his balance, Tony was flipping him on his stomach -once more amazed at how weightless and manipulable his body was, like that of a perfect doll. His cuffed hands were outstretched behind his back, fingers twisting in impatience and frustration.

Tony didn't leave him waiting. He was immediately back on him, pulling his legs apart and driving himself home. He might have felt nervous, yes, at the idea that everyone would be watching him fuck Loki, but now it was all gone, the desire an impatient flame in his stomach as he forced himself into his tight ass. The strenght of the push had Loki's face shoved into the armrest, moaning something that could have been a protest, or maybe not. Between his legs, Tony could see his cock a shade of furious red, rubbing against the rough fabric of the couch.

He fucked into him once, twice, then cursed at the unpractical position. He pulled Loki up under his stomach, forcing him on his knees, holding to his cuffed hands for balance. Much better, he decided, groaning as the new angle allowed him to go even deeper in Loki's ass. Loki's long hair were trickling down his pale back with the shudders of his used body, little whimper breaking past the gag with each hit.

Agathe was back, the woman who had gagged Loki, and she was kneeling in front of him. Tony felt a pang of jealousy as he saw he wrapping her mouth on Loki's dick like she was hungry for it; he almost barked at her to move back, but he remembered he was supposed to share his prize carelessly. Then, climbing on the couch was Fandral, the blond man Thanos had pointed at earlier. He was a muscular figure with an insolent sort of beauty, looking a little like an old-timey romance hero. The image of it was a little ruined when Fandral grabbed at Loki's hair to better pat his cheek with his hard cock. Loki growled.

“Come on, darling,” Tony ordered, out of breath already. “Be nice.”

He unclicked the gag, which fell immediately on the couch. Loki cursed, but Fandral's cock was quickly shoved past his lips, silencing him.

“Good boy,” Tony murmured. “You're a good slave. You're perfect.”

And he did think it; jealous or not, there was something undescribable about the scene, Loki's gagging sound as Fandral fucked his mouth, his shudders and tremblings while Lucy sucked him, and the way his hips pushed back into Tony's, seeking his cock. The smell of sex, the sounds of sex, the warmth of skin on skin on skin and the perfection of owning this role and doing those forbidden things -of owning _Loki_ and fucking him _hard_.

He cursed as he felt himself getting close; again, so fast, so desperately. It had been minutes, fifteen, twenty, too little. He didn't want this to be over, didn't want to leave Loki. He pulled hard at his bounds, reached over to kiss his cheek, kiss his mouth, kiss Fandral's dick, he didn't care, it was Loki, Loki's lips and his tongue and his broken breaths and desire, and his nails dug into his wrists as he pounded into him like he wanted to become him...

His orgasm came too fast, no matter how long he held. He fucked Loki through it, milking his semen deep into his tight ass, long as he could, before pulling out. He ordered Agathe away; Fandral was jerking off to Loki's face, as were two other strangers. Loki swayed on his knees, debauched and beautiful, cock still desperately hard. He looked at him almost dizzily as Tony stepped down from the couch to look at him in the eyes. Then his fingers were on his cock again, slicking him up with saliva and precum. Loki shivered and gritted his teeth, then arched his back into the touch, moaning hard. 

“Yes... Ah...”

“Ask for it, Loki.”

“Nh...”

“Loki,” Tony ordered, voice rough and breathless. “Beg me.”

“Grandmaster...”

“Beg,” he ordered again, but it was a fight of will he was losing already as he stroked Loki's dick, almost as eager as he was to see him break.

“Ah,” Loki gasped again, and then he cried out, louder, and louder- “Nh- ah, AH, AH! Grandmaster, yes, YES! YES!”

He came with a long, almost pained moan. Breathless, Tony fed him his dirty fingers, and Loki sucked on them with a smile that was tired, but that was too victorious for his role. Dizzy on his feet, Tony allowed the camera closer, to look at the mess of a pale man, hair messy, tied up, debauched, so proud of it.

“I'm keeping you,” he said quietly, though it wasn't in the script, and Loki grinned.

“And CUT!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this one!
> 
> As always, comment are really appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about to be very late for work, but I didn't want to make you guys wait until tomorrow. Hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for all the comments!

Stardom 5

 

After sex, Tony had simple wishes. Cuddling. Sleeping. Cleaning himself up and getting back to work. It all depended of his mood, and who his partner was. Back when he had been with Pepper, she had that cute habit of wanting to get a snack, even unhealthy ones, to replenish from the efforts. During his very short, clumsy relationship with T'Challa -sorry, _King_ T'Challa, sovereign of Wakanda forever and of Tony Stark's butt for about two weeks-, he had always felt starved for slow hugs and kisses after they were done.

But when he was done with Loki, he didn't get to enjoy the afterglow the way he wanted to. He didn't even get to decide what it was he wanted. As soon as the director called for the cut, the kiss broke, and the mood, and everything.

“That was good,” Thanos said begrundgingly. “How do you feel?”

The question should have been for Loki, so Tony looked up at him when he didn't answer. But Thanos was looking at another man standing next to him and looking on the small screen of a camera pensively, while Loki was kneeling on the couch, hair messy and cheeks red. He wasn't looking at his lover, either, but rather kept his eyes shut, with his head bend back to breath in slowly.

“Maybe some close-ups,” the man said. “We got some nice shots from behind, not so much from the front. Perhaps some more images of Fandral's dick in his mouth too.”

“How are you feeling?” Tony asked Loki, because it seemed like _he_ should, at least. 

“Very nice,” the actor replied, taking a few more seconds before opening his eyes again. God, they were so striking. For the first time, too, more gentle. More tired. There was less mischief in his gaze, but it was alright -Tony decided he was pretty like that, too. Yeah, he would have gone for some cuddling.

“Should I untie you?”

“Mmh. I doubt it. Maw usually doesn't let me go until, like, three hours of additional scenes.”

“Maw?”

“Ugly face over there.”

Tony followed his eyes to the man chatting up with Thanos. He was going on about preparing bonus content for the website's most exclusive fans. He did look pretty ugly, with a flat, barely-there nose and an unpleasant curve downward to his lips, but Tony stopped studying him when Thanos turned his head his way.

“Stark,” he called. “We've got everything. You can go. Showers are just at the end of the hallway.”

“I'm not needed for the bonuses?”

“You really aren't.”

What a  _dick_ . Tony chewed at the inside of his cheek. God, this entire scene had been so satisfying -up until that point when he was reminded that it was a  _scene_ and that Thanos was literally the director. He wanted to get the heck away from that tyran -but the thing was, he really didn't want to just leave Loki like that, like there was nothing else to say.

And there was that nonsense Thanos had brought up. The  _price_ . The price for what? What did he think was going on?

A technician was bringing him a clean bathroom. Tony took it and smiled.

“Thank you very much. A big thank you to everyone here,” he added, turning to look at the entire crew, and the actors waiting in the corner. “This really was a fantastic experience.”

“Great,” Thanos deadpanned.

“Really,” Tony ignored him, putting on the robe. “I didn't expect to have this much fun, and it's all thanks to you. And I know I'm asking a lot from you to keep this interaction between us, right? So, ah, about I make it a little more fair to you?” He grinned. Everyone's attention was on him, and except for the suspicion in Thanos' face, everyone seemed to be getting excited. Loki was resting his back against the couch, looking at him with one eyebrow raised. “While I'm in the shower, I'll have the _Carbone_ cleared out for tonight. Feel free to bring in your wife, kids, best friend with benefits, whatever. It's all on me.”

“Oh my _gosh_ ,” said Victor the technician.

“You're kidding, man,” Fandral said. “I know you're kidding.”

“The Carbone? Seriously, the Carbone?” Lucy giggled.

“I'll meet you all there at, say, seven,” Tony said, casually spreading his arms. “Thanos, my dude, I want you at my table. We'll have a nice chat, yeah?”

He could tell that he had thrown him off balance. That was the mighty power of packing a probably half-a-million-dollars punch, and he was very pleased that it had worked. Thanos opened his mouth, but didn't reply, as most of his employes were cheering and laughing in excitation. The best restaurant in town, all cleared out for  _them_ ? Tony smirked and winked at the producer, then made out of the room, feeling the shift that had occurred in the way everyone looked at him.

Just before stepping into the hallway, he did look back. Just to see.

Loki had been staring at him. His face was hard to read, but when Tony smiled, he adverted his eyes, and Tony thought he saw him smiling too.

Great. And what now?

He took his shower -which was nice- then called Pepper -which wasn't.

“For _tonight_? Tony, I don't know that they'll allow it-”

“Pepper, you will want to be very convincing. I made a promise to some people with very convincing blackmail material.”

“What have you _done_?”

“I offered to treat them to a nice dinner, and when a few of them talk to the tabloids, it will be a barely believable rumor.”

“Tony!”

“I love you. See you soon.”

He hung up, then pulled up Jarvis' mobile function, tapping his fingers against the plastic of his chair. He was in the make-up room, a small place with no windows that reminded him of a college dorm room, filled up to the brim with clothes, boxes, accessories, and the occasional table and chair, facing mirrors dirtied by time and framed by magazine pictures. He was all alone, had been since he had left the set, though he could hear the distant chatter of voices through the walls, letting him know they were still shooting.

“Okay, J'”, he murmured. “Let's find out what the deal is with the big guy. Get me facts about Thanos, ah-” What had they called him? “Tytan.”

“Already on it, Sir,” Jarvis said. “I didn't find much.”

Various pages and feeds showed up on his screen. There wasn't much to find indeed: he seemed like a somewhat invisible dude. Most of the pages were actually about Loki, with Thanos being mentioned as his manager or director. One interview dating back to 2014 briefly mentioned him, though there was no picture attached: the reporter wrote down that, while interviewing Loki, the pornstar's director had showed up briefly, stopping by for a few inaudible whispers and a possessive kiss. Though insulted to be ignored so, the journalist wrote, the kiss was incredibly ho.

Tony chased the pages that didn't teach him anything. He scrolled through the idiot's private Facebook page: here a picture of a new shiny car, here a shot of an uninteresting beach with blue sky and golden sand. Loki didn't appear anywhere in that one. The comments were mostly about the car, or the vacations, and Thanos talking to various unknown men about an ad for an expensive penthouse, or how unqualified the personal was at such or such hotel.

So, a wannabe, then, aiming for the top, but not bragging about how he made his money on Loki's back. Butt. Whatever.

He kept scrolling, trying to find something that could explain how they had gotten together; something that would explain why a man like Loki, a proud smartass with a smile to take over the world, was still staying with _him_. Unless he was being a good guy, secretely, when no one was looking.

What had Loki said? _Not always a gratifying job. I am an adult. I am consenting. Not all men who need a good show can afford me._

“What about Loki?” He asked out loud to the empty changing room. “Do we have anything about him, outside of his carreer?”

“I am not sure, sir,” Jarvis replied. “I found some traces of a Loki Odinsson, but they go back several years. I didn't find any online profile, but some mentions of him traces back to one Thor Odinsson, twenty-seven, living in Vermont.”

“Brother?”

“I believe so, sir, if you would take a look.”

A picture replaced the text on the screen. It was a family photo, taken in the golden light of a summer afternoon, in a backyard that looked like it could have belonged to any wealthy american family, with a barbecue in the back, a swimming pool. In the middle of the picture stood a shirtless blond man, beaming with a glorious smile and even more glorious abs, and resting his arms on two slightly smaller figure: one had to be his mother, tagged in the picture as _Frigga Njordsdottir-Odinsson,_ a delicate woman with the same golden hair and an indulging smile, wearing a sun hat. On the left stood a boy that looked a little bit younger than Thor, and his absolute opposite: thin, pale, Loki was wearing dark sunglasses and a black t-shirt, and his fingers, ending in black painted nails, were holding on to a glass of something colorful with a little umbrella in it. He could have been no older than fifteen or sixteen, then, but the curve of his smirk, the confident posture -it was definitely him.

“Brothers, really?” He repeated, frowning.

“One deleted account was once tagged in this picture under the name of Loki Odinsson, sir.”

“Maybe cousins, no? Or Mama Frigga remarried?”

“I can't know for sure, Sir, unless-”

“No, let's keep the hacking into government stuff to a minimum,” Tony interrupted quickly, grimacing as he shook his head. He hesitated, then made the picture disappear. What was he thinking? Loki had clearly told him that he was not in distress, no? That he didn't need help?

A text bubble showed up in his screen and he tapped on it. Pepper confirmed him that the Carbone would be entirely free for tonight, and that Tony had signed up to appear in the background of a photo on their website. He smiled, impressed as always by her negociation skills, and sent an emoji with hearts for eyes. Pepper did not respond.

He had hoped that Loki was exagerating, but time passed and the shooting didn't appear to be coming to an end. He eventually gave up on the idea of waiting to see him, and exited the studio. Hopefully, if Thanos really thought, for some reason, that Tony owed him anything, he would show up at the restaurant.

He went home, fought for twenty minutes to remove the remains of eyeliner, and graciously warned the head of PR to give him an adequate alibi for today, and to be prepared to refute any foolish allegations of Tony Stark starring in porn. The poor man had been managing the Stark scandals since the Howard era. He would be just fine.

The afternoon felt a little surreal, after that. He had gotten everything he had wanted in the morning: Loki, Loki's ass, Loki's mouth, his _smile_. It should have been over, a delicious memory, and yet he found that it was not, had never been, that simple. He opened the tabs he kept of Loki's best videos. They felt irrelevant today. Why was there no scene to show his laugh and that glint in his eyes when he was mocking you, getting exactly what _he_ had wanted all along?

At six thirty, he put on a baseball cap with the Black Widow logo on it, yellow sunglasses and a pair of jeans. The evening was pleasantly fresh as he drove back to the city, feeling nervous and excited. At seven and ten, the parking to the restaurant was overflowing, the valet seemingly not knowing what to do with all the minivans and small families that had showed up. Tony handed him his keys and a wink before stepping inside.

The atmosphere was probably the loudest, happiest the restaurant had ever seen. Kids ran around, men laughed and women were marveling at the delicious garlic bread. Waiters were bringing water, diet cokes and expensive wines to each table where people wearing their best clothes were chatting and cheering. Tony grinned, surprisingly pleased at the chaotic display, scanning the room for beautiful black hair and -yeah, right, Loki would probably not be naked _now_.

“Mr. Stark?” An elderly waiter asked. “We kept you the table by the window, the one you prefer.”

“Thank you very much, uh-”

“Stan Lee, Sir.”

“Right, thank you so much, Stanley. Say, I'm looking for two guys. One is tall, dark and handsome, and the other, uh... You see the Hulk?”

“I did not see the Hulk here, Sir.”

“No, I guess not. I'm looking for a guy about that big, except he's not green. Bald, kinda scary?”

“I do not know about your tall and dark friend,” Stanley said, “but I think the not-Hulk man is over there?”

Thanos was, indeed, sitting over there, next to a very expensive statue, wearing a surprisingly fancy suit. He was sniffing some wine in his glass, taking his time to decide whether he wanted it. And he was, indeed, sitting alone.

“Great,” he mumbled. “Well -I'll be sitting with the big guy for tonight, but, keep the window seat for me, just in case, okay? Thank you.”

He handed Stanley a slightly crumpled one hundred dollars bill, then moved on to Thanos' table, as he finally allowed the waitress to pour the wine into the glass. She offered Tony a warm smile as he pulled himself a chair.

“Good evening, Mr. Stark. Can I bring you something to drink?”

“Pineapple juice, if you would. Hey, director.”

“Certainly, sir. Shall I leave the bottle, sir?”

“Mr. Stark,” Thanos said with a smile that looked about as friendly as Victor Von Doom's metallic mask. He didn't answer the waitress who, after waiting for five long seconds, did put the bottle on table and disappeared.

“Isn't the star going to join us?” Tony asked casually.

“Loki decided to stay at home to get some rest. I hope you don't mind.”

“Oh, certainly not. He earned it. I was just hoping to get to thank him for the good time.”

Thanos's smile grew just a little less fake, probably because Tony was awful at lying, and at hiding just how pissed he was at the news.

“Well, he was only doing his job, you know, but I'll make sure to tell him you enjoyed it.”

“Aren't you a perfect boyfriend,” Tony replied, not quite bothering to hide his displeasure anymore. “Now, let's be serious for a minute. What's that business about a _price_? We didn't discuss any money.”

The mood shifted immediately, he could tell, as Thanos's smile dropped and he squinted his eyes every so slightly. His gigantic hand closed around his glass, and while he brought it to his lips for a drink of wine, he was holding it so tight, his knuckles were going white. This, Tony knew then, was a man whose temper was even shorter than he had figured, and he tensed, wondering if this talk would end in a physical confrontation.

“Mr. Stark,” Thanos said after putting down his glass. “I do hope you do not intend to go back on your word.”

“What is it you're expecting?”

“You offered one hundred thousand dollars,” Thanos said darkly, lowering his voice, “for Loki to suck your dick. Then you went around and made him do _more._ Do you think that you'll get out of that by playing charming with him?”

This was so completely ridiculous that Tony almost laughed, except Thanos was being dead serious. He wasn't threatening, wasn't trying to coax Tony into giving him the money. He acted like he was so _sure_ it belonged to him already.

What the hell?

“At what moment exactly did we talk of money in our deal?”

“You told Loki about it,” Thanos interrupted, impatiently. “He made you go from fifty to one hundred before we agreed.”

That... Was absolute nonsense. Tony felt his head spinning a little. Loki? Loki had told Thanos... That Tony would pay? This was ridiculous. He had told Tony, just earlier that day, that it was _Thanos_ who had insisted to make the scene. And nowhere in the documents, nowhere did it say that there was any money involved, no. Tony had signed to say he was not getting paid for his _performance_ -but he had not paid to be there either.

What didn't make sense either was that -he would have. Hell, he probably would have. A hundred grands were _nothing_. He could have paid that much, if Loki had asked for it. Except, it wasn't Loki asking.

“You're making this up,” he said, but he was not believing it himself. And Thanos? Thanos was looking more angry by the minute.

“You're going to give me my money, Stark,” he said in a low warning tone.

“Or what?”

“Do you want everyone to know what Iron Man does in his free time? Do you want everyone to know you promise money to pretty boys to fuck them and then try to get out of it?”

“You won't be able to convince anyone of that,” Tony said, but he was feeling dizzy. This was really not what was happening. Why would Loki lie? What was going on?

“I have you on _tape_ , Stark. Every single person in this room saw you fucking him.”

He did. If he chose to use the behind the scenes takes -if there was a shot where someone adressed him as Stark, as Tony... Heck. One hundred thousand was nothing, but why would he give it to this asshole?

“I want to talk to Loki,” he said.

“You've talked to him more than enough. I want my _money_.”

“I'm not giving you anything unless I see him. What is it?” He added, seeing Thanos turning purple with anger. “Are you afraid he's going to leave you for me? Because you _should_ be afraid, dickhead. What, you think he'd rather drive a NSX than your lame Mercedes?”

That last line was too much, he knew it as he said it. He was still smiling through it, and Thanos' fist cut itself on his teeth when he punched him right in the face with a cry of rage.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah, gotta run!   
> Plz comment. I love comments.


	6. Chapter 6

One would have thought that Tony was used to being punched, what with being a big-mouthed five-feet-four-inches piece of sarcasm, or just, you know, fighting evil on a daily basis. But Tony was also used to being too rich and famous to be attacked physically, and he wore a suit of gold and titanium that usually deterred his enemies from going for that particular move. Plus, as Natasha had explained, it wasn't even a particularly effective move, too risky for the attacker to be blocked or to hurt his fist on the skull or teeth.

But here he was, with that new life experience. Getting punched in the face? Hurt.

Not like a broken limb, sure, not like a laser blast, but Thanos was huge and it wasn't for show. His fist connected with Tony's mouth and left cheek, and he felt like his gums had exploded. As people gasped and as waiters urged to call security, Tony struggled to get over his confusion to prepare for the next assault. Thanos reached for his shoulder to hold him in place, Tony tried to drop on the floor and fell on his ass.

“You fucking bastard,” Thanos growled, a low and furious sound as he advanced on him. “You're gonna pay for that!”

“Jarvis, suit!” Tony snapped. Speaking made his face hurt. He tried to get up but Thanos grabbed him by the arm and punched him _again_ , harder. He raised his free hand, trying to protect his face. Thanos grabbed his wrist and twisted, making him cry out in shock and pain. Had the brute gone entirely insane?!

Security was on them at last, grabbing Thanos by his big arms and pulling him away as he raged and shouted threats. The suit was there a moment later, having needed all that time to make it from Tony's car through the packed restaurant. He leaned on it, grabbing the metal shoulder for support as he straightened up painfully. The guests had all gone quiet, staring in shock. He was sure he saw the flash of a few cellphones with their shining cameras pointed at him.

Yeah. PR was not going to be enough to keep this quiet.

He looked back at Thanos. He shoved the security guys off of him, but didn't attack again. He was panting, face a dark shade of violet with fury, but his bright pale eyes travelled the same way Tony's had before coming back to him. He certainly didn't look like he was regretting his outburst, but he also didn't look pleased with the results.

“Fuck you, Stark,” he barked finally, voice sudden and hateful enough that Tony and the guards both startled, worried for another assault. But if he wanted to, he held himself back, shoving a chair out of his way and turning back. As he headed outside, everyone got out of the way, even Maw. Nobody tried to hold him back. Police was on its way, a waiter murmured nervously.

“Are you okay, Sir?” One of the security guard asked Tony, pale. He was an older man, looking a little like Coulson, kind and half-bald and not dangerous. The memory of the SHIELD agent, dead while fighting the Abomination, dead while trying to protect his team, did not help him calm down. He felt himself nodding. His right arm was a mess of pain and twisted nerves. His face was throbbing. His tongue tasted of blood.

“This is crazy. Oh my god,” the waitress said, standing shock stilled with a box of pineapple juice in hand.

“What is _wrong_ with him?”

“He was in a bad mood all day, but this is crazy.”

“You're not hurt, Mr. Stark?”

Everyone -the guests, the people from the shooting- they were talking. He felt himself getting overwhelmed, knew his panic enough to know he needed some air. He got into the suit, ignoring the agent who was telling him the police would want to hear from him. He left the restaurant, face numb and bloody and heart confused.

What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

He went home and washed his face and fought a hard, pathetic battle to not take a drink. He rinsed his mouth with water and got to bed. Insomnia was on him, but he kept his eyes closed and tried to breath like Bruce had told him to. Eventually, after what felt like forever, he drifted off.

In the morning, his face was bruised: an ugly shadow on his chin, and his right eyes surrounded by a purple circle that hurt to touch. He had breakfast while replaying the previous day's events in his head, considering how many opportunities he had had to get out before all this craziness, and going back again and again through the same irritating questions: what the fuck kind of game was Loki playing?

No matter how he looked at it, there were holes in the story. Loki had refused to have sex with him unless it was in front of the cameras. Though Tony had offered him money, Loki had never seemed encline to agree. He had told Thanos he had negociated with him for a hundred thousand dollars, then he had told Tony Thanos had  _insisted_ for the shooting. He had been playing one of them, but he couldn't figure out which. He couldn't figure out  _why_ , and he hated how he felt betrayed. He would have given Loki the money. Why all the scheming? Was it just a misunderstanding? Had he missed something?

He wanted to be pissed, he knew he should have been, but he couldn't bring himself to it. Loki had smiled at him. Loki had kissed him like he meant it. Loki had talked about his job, seeming amused and light and pleased. There had been something so true about who he had been then. He didn't want to know it was all a lie.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his fingers, grimacing at the pain that followed.

“Okay, J',” he called. “How bad is it?”

There was the smallest silence. He knew it was Jarvis overriding his own command to keep the outside world out, but he felt like he was trying to protect him just a little while longer.

“You have eleven missed calls from Ms. Potts,” Jarvis said finally, “as well as several textes and calls from the administration council. They demand to see you as soon as possible.”

“So there's that,” Tony mumbled. “What about the rest?”

“The incident from last night has been mentioned on eight news site so far, but has gathered about one and a half million people's attention. Blogs and opinions pages are analysing the story.”

“How much do they know?”

“Your relation with Mr. Odinsson remains thus far unconfirmed,” Jarvis said, after a few instants of analysis. “One unnamed actress told a journalist about it, but the article has not gathered much attention yet. I'm expecting it to pick up soon, Sir, to be honest.”

“Yeah, I'm expecting it too,” Tony mumbled, grimacing. “Shit.”

“Is there something I can do to help?”

“Thanks, J'. Just tell me when Captain America is ready to give me the Frown of Disapproval. I've earned it.”

Jarvis was capable enough of sensing sarcasm that he did not reply to that particular statement, and Tony was left alone with the silence following the embarrassing admission.

He had done some stupid things in his life, but this... Was bad. He had enjoyed it. He had loved it, loved Loki. But was it worth it? Was it worth being labeled like  _that_ ? He'd been a good guy, since he'd become an Avengers. He had made sure to be worth looking at, for all the kids that sent him pictures and asked for autographs. Had he just messed up all of that?

“Sir,” Jarvis said. “I have some interesting news.”

“I'm not sure I'm ready for it just now,” he groaned, but couldn't hold back for long. “Yeah, okay. Hit me. Is Fury making fun of me yet?”

“No, Sir. But I have some updates regarding Thanos Tytan.”

Tony's eyes narrowed. Right. The threats. The video released to the public. He was actually surprised it had taken the other man this long to fuel the fire in which he had thrown himself.

“Let me guess. He's on national news tonight.”

“Actually, Sir,” Jarvis said, sounding careful, “I am under the impression that we will not hear from him again.”

“What?!” His heart stopped for a sec. Oh God. If Thanos was dead, then everyone would look at _him_ -

“Not like that,” Jarvis said quickly. “I mean that Mr. Tytan seems to be trying to leave the state, perhaps the country.”

“What?”

“Permission to hack into private conversations, Sir? I feel that it might shed some lights on the current events.”

“Yes. Wait, _no_! Jarvis, we don't do that. No hacking.” Although he really wanted answers. Just what was happening _now_? “Just tell me what you got.”

“Although Mr. Tytan has been pursued by the NYPD yesterday regarding his behaviour in the restaurant, Sir, it appeared he did not return to his house. Policemen found his official address to be a house in the Quadrant, entirely empty. They did not yet release any statement, but they did follow a lead to the Grand Station, and from there sent Tytan's profile to the Police of the State of New Jersey.”

“So... He's trying to disappear,” Tony thought, frowning. Why? Why make such a mess, loud threats and all, and then leave? Was it the fighting? Did Thanos fear the repercussions of hitting Tony Stark in the face? “What about Loki?”

“I have heard no word of him, Sir.”

“Think he would leave with Thanos?”

“I'm afraid I do not know enough about either of them to assess the situation. Although, if I were to search for records of past conversations-”

“What's with you and hacking these days, J'?” Tony mumbled, managing to be sort of amused enough to lose a bit of his tension.

“There is some thrill to law-breaking activities, I find,” Jarvis confessed with his articulate, rueful British accent. Tony couldn't help but laugh, reassured by this little piece of normalty, the memory of his favorite butler, the pride of his greatest AI. He relaxed in his seat, pushing away tension for a bit.

“Well, I'll keep that in mind if the time comes. Until then, just -keep me posted, buddy.”

Jarvis obliged. The news came and messed up. The police was on Tony's case, asking to talk about the incident. There was the usual tension, the barely disguised anger at the vigilante asshole he was, but in the end there was nothing much to say, and they held nothing against him for telling a man he didn't deserve his boyfriend.

The journalists were not so quick to let go. As per usual, the second and third day after the scandal were the most busy, with everyone trying to make sense of it all. By the middle of the week, half of the population of the United States knew about a mess of a story: Tony Stark had slept with a pornstar, then he had gotten himself punched in the face by the pornstar's boyfriend.

“You know,” Natasha remarked on Wednesday, when she came back to the tower from a trip to the Carribeans, “I did think you'd been too quiet lately.” She was eating coconut sorbet, sitting with him in the living room. She had a mean bruise to her face, much darker than Tony's, which was fading already. Clearly, her mission had been quite demanding.

“Ha, ha. This wasn't supposed to go public,” he mumbled, watching the crappy romantic comedy playing on the TV. They weren't exactly paying attention to the action, but it was how they were used to doing things, together. None of them enjoyed small talk, but the white noise of the TV was comforting. “Steve's so going to kill me.”

“Tell me the guy was worth it, at least.”

“Hell, yes.” He sighed, suckling pensively at his spoonful of hazelnut ice cream. “It's not just that he was good, you know? Even though he tricked me... He was just something else, Natasha. He was different.”

“From what?”

Tony shook his head. He sounded sappy and pathetic. He knew that. This was why talking to Natasha was nice and awful at the same time. She knew it all, too. She sighed at his silence, or maybe it was at the dramatic scene of the movie where the heroine's lies all came back to her face and her would-be boyfriend left her, betrayed.

“You didn't get any news?"

“Nothing. The website didn't release the video, per request of the PR. I paid for everyone's salary that day to make it up to them.” That had been quite an expensive fuck, if he thought about it, even though he hadn't paid the sum Thanos had asked for. “I wrote to ask about Loki, but I was just told he had not been answering their calls either.”

“What do you think he's up to?”

“I just don't know.” That was what haunted him the most. Was he with Thanos? Were they on the run together? Laughing at the mess behind them? Building themselves a new life? He could imagine Loki driving toward unknown destinations, his long hair flying in the wind, laughing in the passenger seat. He couldn't imagine Thanos with him. He didn't want to. And that money he had never given them...

“You're thinking about this too much,” Natasha said, eventually. “Your Loki's a liar. You said it yourself, that's the only logical explanation. If he's any good liar, then he was using you. He would have made himself into whatever he needed you to think he was.”

“Sometimes, it's just depressing talking to you, Tasha.”

“Yup,” the spy agreed pleasantly. “You wanted comfort, you should have called Bruce.”

“He's somewhere doing something.”

“Then I'm all you got, playboy. Do we have any more diet coke?”

“I can have some delivered now.”

“Go for it.” She straightened up a little. “We're watching a good movie and then you'll take a shower. You reek of rotten fruits. Jarvis? Play _Ever After_.”

Natasha was not the friend he deserved, but she was, more often than not, the friend he needed. They drank diet coke and watched a sappy Cinderella story and Tony almost fell better by the time she bid him good night and disappeared to her floor.

The other Avengers' reactions were not all this chill. Steve clearly wanted to act like nothing had ever happened. Clint thought it was _hilarious_. Bruce, when he did come back, looked at him like he wasn't sure they were in fact from the same specie. T'Challa refused to give any comment, and Tony purposefully avoided Peter, because come on. If he was ashamed of betraying his young fans, it was still nothing compared to the idea of making Peter look at him like he was a perverted freak.

The storm started to die out, like it always did. There was no legal dispute to be held. Loki was nowhere to be found, not for interviews, not for answers. Some radio hosts who thought themselves to be especially funny suggested Tony had killed him or was keeping him locked in a cave somewhere. Parents association petitioned here and there to have Tony's likeness removed from their kids' backpacks and clothes. SHIELD issued a statement to remark that nobody had been harmed or forced into anything and that their heroes' private life was, well, private. By the time spring started to come around, it was all a dream. A confusing, unpleasant dream.

Tony had received the unedited tape from the set. He hadn't looked at it. He knew it would not be anything satisfying, not now. He hadn't taken a lover since, either, even though he knew how silly it was. He'd been played, just like Natasha had told him. A pawn to be used and discarded, or maybe even a collateral damage. And he was starting to think he was never going to know what for.

Then, suddenly, everything happened all at once, like it always did.

On April 6th, Thanos was apprehended in Florida, of all places. It didn't make it far into the newspapers. They said he had been hiding in a motel, a morbidly sad retreat. Tony was called in by the police to ask if he wanted to press charges. He said yes. He was petty that way. Still, he wasn't allowed to ask the bastard question.

Then, on April 19th, at six PM, he received an email. He knew the address. He paused, watching the unnamed file for a long moment before curiosity got the best of him and he clicked.

_Dear Mr. Stark_ , it started simply, and wasn't that how it had all begun?

_I wrote many a draft of this letter, and it seems I cannot make it work. I wonder about it. My entire life, I could use words at my service with no effort at all. I lied. I twisted. I worked my way around the truth and the facts and I made things the way I wanted them._

_But you know this already, do you not?_

_Yet, words fail me today. I almost decided not to write at all, in the end. But I wonder still. Are you worried about my well-being? It would be a mistake, and yet one I feel you could make._

_I'll be back in New York this week-end. Do you know the Knowhere? It was my favorite café. I'll be there on Sunday at one in the afternoon, for the sake of nostalgia._

_Have a nice day, Mr. Stark, and with greater regards,_

_Loki Odinsson_

And Sunday, at a quarter to one, Tony Stark stood at the door of a bourgeois-bohème café in a dirty, artistic neighborhood, and he wondered if Natasha was right. He wondered if Loki had just made himself into what Tony wanted. Someone clever and beautiful and strong, someone proud and laughing and just one that side of strange. But even as he hesitated, he wondered also, for if he had - _then why_?

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki talks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the plot behind the porn! Thank you so much to everyone for their support and their questions!

The Quadrant. Once an industrial neighborhood, now a contrast of flaunting excentricity and genuine misery.

For most of the seventies, the Quadrant had been one of those grey places made of bricks and torn concrete, on that sad edge between poverty and boredom. It had slowly declined into the former as the factories it was home to closed one after the other, falling prey to poor investment choices or pure bad luck. People lived there for transition: newly arrived immigrants, and students, and lonely souls who couldn't afford the proximity with the prettiest or the most important parts of town. Eventually, the city wrecked the small Italian street and its friendly trift shops to make room for some highway, loud and dirty. Now the important people passed by, and they never stopped, and the Quadrant fell into the bitterness so typical to anything condamned to grow in the shadows.

By the start of the millenium, the city started considering the crime rate, the endless cycle of evictions from apartments, the costs of vandalism, and perhaps even how many beggars there were in the street. The neighborhood was slowly cleaned up. They built a library. They tore down the remains of ominous factories and hunted down the dealers. Richer punks and cleaner businessmen moved in.

Now, it was a strange little place in the big city, with the undistinct smell of poverty and danger still hanging there, but so faint it became part of its charms. Rich students rented the top floors of warehouse to make them into instagramable apartments. There were design firms, dance schools and tattoo shops. There were beggars and parking lots and fast food joints. There was whatever would thrive in a history of polished ugliness.

There was the Knowhere, hipster and old-fashioned and strange.

Its front door was covered in posters for theater plays. Through the windows, green cacti and succulents were lazily enjoying the sun, perched on top of a bar counter where young people with headphones and laptops were working. The floor was honey-colored wood, the walls a baroque tapestry that made the space look cramped and tight. Two boys, one with pink hair, were serving kombucha drinks and dark espressos to their customers while laughing about one thing or another.

It was a weird place, not one Tony would have picked himself. He wondered if it really fit Loki's tastes, or if he had chosen this place for some other reasons. Jarvis had told him that Thanos' house, so empty of any sign of life, had been located in the Quadrant. Did Loki come here alone?

Tony had chosen to wear comfy clothes, telling himself he didn't want to stand out, and also that he wasn't trying to impress anyone, but he might as well have worn a five digits suit or a trash bag. Nobody paid two glances at him, and he lowered his sunglasses as he reached the counter.

“Good morning,” the blond-haired clerk sing-songed to him as he finished washing a tall glass. “What's it gonna be for you today? We're having a promotion on the frappes, including our brand-new carrot-and-caramel sunny mix! Just 4,95$ for a medium!”

Yeah, Tony would not have picked the place himself. He held back a grimace, surveying the cafe quickly. No sign of Loki, as far as he could tell. Sure, he was here early -but a ball of nervosity climbed up into his stomach with no warning. What if he was being made fun of?

“I'll have, ah- just a large... Hazelnut... Latte. Soy milk.”

“O-kay”, the young boy cheerfully agreed. “Any pastry with that? With your purchase, the muffins and croissants are just two additionnal dollars!”

Tony agreed to a croissant, if only because the kid looked fully prepared to listing every other pastry in the cafe until he picked one. Taking his order, he chose a place by the end of the cafe, two low seats with a small table in between, where he could watch the door easily. A glance at his watch told him it was 12:51. Yeah, he thought. It was legit that Loki wasn't there yet.

Good god, he hadn't been so stupidly nervous since -what, college? And even then, it had made sense. His first dates were usually close to five years older than his poor fourteen year old ass. Why did he fear what a beautiful pornstar on the run thought, uh?

12:55 came, and he considered leaving the cafe, and 12:57, and he started doing the crosswords in the newspapers to try to keep himself busy, but once he'd filled in all the periodic table elements, he couldn't make it much better. At 1:00, he told himself that it was it, and that he'd just finish his coffee and go. Just before the clock switched to 1:01, the door opened and a bearded hobo walked in, and just before the door could close, a skinny figure walked in after him.

Loki's eyes locked with Tony's immediately. It was no coincidence, because Tony was staring. The actor seemed surprised, than maybe pleased. He smiled and waved and made for the counter and Tony's heart did funny things in his poor chest. He tapped the pencil against the newspaper as he waited, trying not to look too eager or to stare too much.

Loki looked... Different, somewhat. It was something complex. He couldn't quite pinpoint it, so he ended up staring after all. Loki's hair was perhaps a little shorter, and also curled a little more freely, but it still framed his sharp features beautifully, enhancing the shadows of his cheekbones. _He_ wore a full black suit and made Tony regret coming here in jeans, because he looked like a young lord, or a rebellious prince, or the devil himself. It was, he concluded, a matter of attitude, all in the way he was standing and casual, beautiful yet free of the tension that had once been part of him. 

Having paid for his coffee -with a blue and gold credit card from a bank he didn't know, Tony observed from a distance before he quickly pretended to be entranced by his crossword puzzle-, Loki joined him at the table. His moves were graceful as he placed his mug, covered in whipped cream, on the table, then crossed his endlessly long legs over the side of the low seat. And he waited that long to meet Tony's eyes.

At last. Too soon. Tony's coffee tasted weird on his tongue.

“I didn't know for sure that you would come,” Loki said finally. The sound of his voice, gods above. He was finally here in front of him.

“Well, I don't like leaving mysteries unsolved,” Tony replied, rather lamely.

“I didn't plan to be a mystery.”

“What did you want to be?”

“A pleasant memory. Or a pain in the ass.”

He had forgotten this, how effortlessly words rolled off his tongue, without his pretty face hinting at what he was feeling. His lips curled into the smallest of smile, but his eyes were guarded, watching Tony's reactions.

He remained silent, looking at him. Loki looked back, then, just as the pause was bordering on awkward, let out a small chuckle. Maybe nervous, himself? Or perhaps amused by Tony's tension? 

“I'm sorry.”

“What for?” Tony asked.

“This whole thing. It was... Quite messier than expected.”

Expected. So he had been planning what happened, at least to some extents. Planning. Playing. Had he been a pawn in his hands, nothing less than that? He stared at Loki, wondering if the pain he felt was visible. Even then, Loki was not meeting his gaze anymore, bringing his mug to his lips and licking the cream off the mug.

“You didn't answer any of my emails.”

“I didn't receive them,” came the answer, delicate like a whisper.

“So where were you?”

“Trying to disappear.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“And the big guy?”

“You didn't get it yet, did you?”

“When we first met,” Tony replied, refusing to let the hurt and the hope crawl into his heart, “I asked you if you were doing okay.”

“And I told you that I did not need saving, yes. I remember.” Loki took a small sip of his drink, then licked his lips, and let out a brief sigh before he looked up to him. “That was because you were already my escape plan.”

Once more, silence took over. Just for a bit. Tony was staring into those startling green eyes and thinking that Loki could be lying straight to his face. He didn't know. He so wanted to think he was sincere. Loki's lips suddenly pulled into a grin, showing his teeth in a brief laugh.

“I've been stuck with Thanos for _years_ ”, he said like it was some hilarious joke. “I was working on my way out for months, and then you showed up -giving me the perfect opportunity. It should have gone much more smoothly.”

“So you did need the saving,” Tony replied flatly.

“Ah,” Loki said, smiling all the more, though Tony failed to see how it was funny. “But it's never quite black and white, is it? I did consent to the porn. Hell, it was my idea when it all began.”

“I'm pretty sure that doesn't matter. Not if you have to _work your way out_ of a relationship like you're in a prison. Not if you have to go into hiding to escape your boyfriend.”

“So _you_ did worry for my well-being.” 

“I do.”

Loki's smile fell, hurtful as it had been. Then it was back, more rueful. It was, Tony decided, a facade. There was nothing funny there and Loki knew that. But it was becoming more complex, he was right about it. Why the lies? Why not just tell him? Didn't he know that Tony had money, lawyers? Didn't he know that he would have taken him away?

“I met Thanos when I was just sixteen,” Loki started again, with his smile still hanging on, still pretending. Probably. “He was scary already back then. It was obvious he was a bad choice, which is just why I chose him. I wanted to leave my family, and I wanted to do it with a bang. I figured, once we were out here in the big city, it would be pretty easy to get rid of him. I'd stay in his apartment for one, two months top, just long enough to prepare my own future.”

“How long has it been?”

“Seven years.” A pause. “I am bad at maths. And at choices.”

“Why didn't you go back home?”

“Pride, mostly. And besides -my family is in Copenhagen, Stark. And my passport expired a year after we made it to New York.”

“So he held you hostage.”

“You're still trying to make it simple,” Loki said, sounding nervous. And yet still smiling. “This is not -I did not come here to tell you about him. It's not relevant.”

“So why are we here?” Tony asked, and he wasn't surprised when everything paused once more.

Loki's hands were both around his mug, long fingers curled on the white ceramic. He thought of the picture from his teenage years, and the nail polish he had worn then. He wondered about Loki and that big blond guy and their rich blond mom.

“You're Tony Stark,” Loki said finally, very softly. “You're rich, you're famous. Everyone adores you and you do not give a fuck. You're _everything_ Thanos always wanted to be.” He paused, then continued, as Tony forced himself to stay silent and not to point out that he really didn't like that comparison. “He always was going on about how he deserved so much better. He dreamt of being _someone,_ someone the world bowed to, someone admired and feared and respected. Once, he used to -those were plans for us both, at one time. But I'm not a precious thing to keep in a cage and parade around.”

“The porn,” Loki started again after taking a deep breath, his smile now melted away, “it was my idea. We filmed ourselves in bed, once. Just because. We put it online and we got lots of views. At first, he didn't think anything of it, but then his friend Maw heard about it. He said there was a lot of money in porn. I was excited about it. The attention, the provocation... Heck, sleeping with other guys, too. Thanos wasn't sure, not at first. He was too jealous. He was angry. He didn't want me to do something without him. But Maw got us both into that studio, on the very day I turned eighteen. Thanos was my director. A package deal. He was in control and I was enjoying my new role, far from him and in the spotlight. For a while, it almost worked. We were both almost happy.”

Tony didn't say that Loki seemed to want to talk about Thanos, after all. It would have been petty: he wanted to hear it too. This was truth. Loki's truths. He was giving him an explanation, he thought, walking around it, going into details, but it was starting to paint a picture he could maybe understand. He stared and waited and Loki chuckled at meeting his eyes, his smile full of teeth and uncertainty.

“Have you nothing to say?”

“Not as much as you.”

“I wondered if you would care at all.”

“Six years,” Tony said. “You've made videos for six years.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed. “We were getting money. Attention. We were getting up there, but it wasn't what he wanted. He was angry when people looked down on him because of how he made his money. He started keeping his distance with me. He started acting like a pimp, like there was more honor in that. But even then, he was angry. He met big people and he wanted them to respect him.”

“Expensive prostitute,” Tony remembered out loud. Loki had mentioned it so very casually, on set.

“I had already decided that I had to leave him for good,” Loki said. “I was sick of it all. I didn't have money, I didn't have freedom. I was tired of playing that game of a diva I had enjoyed for so long. I hated how my young self had fallen for that play. Then he started selling me around. We weren't even pretending to be in love anymore. He was enjoying his role of owning me. But-”

“You're not a thing to be owned.”

Loki's eyes darted to him, a flash of suspicion in them. Tony faced them, waiting. He thought he was starting to understand, but he waited, wondering if he didn't. Loki's lips shuddered into a brief smile.

“No,” he said. “I am not.”

He paused, to bite into the enormous oatmeal and chocolate chips cookies he had bought for himself. Tony's mouth was as full of acid as his mind was full of questions, but Loki had a different sort of strenght to him. Watching him delicately lick his lips, Tony could only think, _the show must go on_. Loki was an actor in more ways than one.

“He didn't really beat me,” he started again, eventually. “It would have shown on set, after all. We had our own ways to fight. He had his own ways of hurting me, and he knew I wouldn't run. I was desperate, but not stupid. It would do me no good to escape him only to end on the streets, selling myself cheaper than before and hoping he didn't find me. And who would help me? I agreed to the porn myself. I made the interviews to show I was consenting. And I was. The set was my one place of power, the place where he had to admit that everyone was looking at _me_. That he was nothing but a cheap man living on someone else's charms.” There was the first hint of something ferocious in Loki's voice, the remaining pride. “So I started digging my escape tunnel from that one safe foundation. I charmed the producers. I laughed at the jokes of Hugh Hefner's assistant. I aimed for the biggest ones and I waited for Thanos to lose it.”

“You were playing him,” Tony said quietly.

Perhaps Loki didn't realise what he truly meant. Perhaps he didn't hear the relief that Tony hadn't been the one true target. But he smiled, and this time it was -it was real. It was the smile he had given him, in private, after the scene. Tony's insides melted a little.

“I didn't want to fall from one trap to the next,” Loki said. “I didn't want to be anyone else's stay-at-home whore. I wanted freedom, and that meant getting _him_ away from me. He was so proud, so angry all the time. It was so easy to make him jealous. To play him against those people he so loved and hated. And then you wrote to me, and it was like everything was falling in place. I decided to help things up, just to be sure it was all going to work. I told him about the money.”

“You wanted to make it look like I was mocking him.”

“You never liked him,” Loki smiled, “and it helped. I made it look like you were there for _me_. I made it look like you were disrespecting him in his own face, on his own set. I thought you wouldn't care. You didn't seem like the kind of man who would. But then, you rushed things even more. Offering that meal, because you could afford him. And talking about me when you were face to face with him. Turning him invisible, scorned.”

“So you had your spies at the dinner after all, uh?”

“Stan Lee was on my side,” Loki agreed. “I knew Thanos would lose it sooner than later. I thought he would threaten you with a lawsuit and then realise he would lose, or insult you and get in trouble.”

“But he punched me in the face,” Tony remarked, raising an eyebrow as the story unfolded and started to make sense. He had seen nothing coming, he thought. Natasha might want to recruit this guy.

“An option I hoped for, but never thought would happen,” Loki agreed. “He was furious, this I knew, but he had brutalised _me_ at home. I thought he would hold still.”

This, he said so lightly it could have been a joke, and his smile said he expected Tony to laugh. He didn't, his belly twisting in unpleasant places around the croissant as he looked at Loki's delicate wrists and thought they looked so breakable.

“He freaked out,” he diagnosised quietly. “He punched me in the face and there were witnesses. He knew I was going to make him pay for it.”

“Not only that,” Loki amended. “But it was such a scandalous story. Everyone would want the dirty details. Everyone would know him as an angry, unstable pimp. Everyone would look down to him.”

It was so twisted and wrong, on so many levels. Yet... It worked. It made sense. It was an impossible outcome, but it was a perfect escape, and Loki had prepared it effortlessly, making it look like a misunderstanding. He had played Tony, yes, but only to play Thanos better.

“Where did you go?”

“I had my things ready. As soon as Stan called me, I left the house. I was entirely random,” he explained, “because Thanos wouldn't expect me to be, if he still decided to come after me. I took the second bus that left the state, and from there, I waited twenty-four hours to take another bus. When I stopped to wonder where I was, I'd made it to Vermont. I only had one hundred twenty dollars left, and that was because I had stolen them from Darcy, at the studio. So I stopped there and I laid low.”

It wasn't quite an answer. One hundred dollars was nothing, Tony didn't have to be poor to know that. It didn't explain months of hiding. But Loki was quietly staring; his story over. Challenging Tony to ask more questions. Now he had done his part, his smile seemed to say. Now it was Tony's turn. Then the story would end. And he had a feeling that asking for the _dirty details_ , as he had called it, would make that end come faster.

So he considered. What it was he really wanted to ask.

“So,” he said. “Are you okay?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure the next chapter will be the last! 
> 
> Thank you so much to all for your comments!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was supposed to be, like, two chapters of porn. Somehow, I'm still a tiny bit sad that it's over already. 
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone for the comments and kudos and support. This was such a fun adventure!

Loki looked Tony Stark dead in the eyes. Seconds passed. The cafe was busy, full of noise: that was why he had chosen it. Still, he felt his heart beats might be audible to the man sitting across from him. Stark stared back, not going back on his question.

_Are you okay?_

Obviously he was, he wanted to say, and maybe smirk at him, mock his redundancy. He had just explained everything to him, hadn't he? Explained how his plan had worked better than he had expected. Explained why he was victorious.

But also, he wasn't. And it was terrible that Stark could feel it through his story, enough to ask. Terrible, and strange, and... Nice.

What a fool he was, he thought quietly. What fools they both were.

“This is the part of the story where you should feel hurt that I used you,” he pointed out, voice studied to sound detached.

“I probably should,” Tony -Tony Stark- replied, his lips lifting into a smile, his charming little goatee twisted by it.

Why was that smile reaching for things so deeply buried in his chest? Why was it he wanted to smile, whenever Tony did? Had he learned  _nothing_ ? Had he not promised himself he would never again fall for the stupid things his heart broke for? 

He had, and then he had decided he should give Tony Stark the chance to push him away.

“I'm still pissed,” Tony supplied, after the silence lasted, and perhaps after sensing the tightness in his posture. “I'll admit it, yeah. I don't like feeling used. But I guess you had a pretty good reason, and your game was well played. I have to admire that.”

“I'm glad you appreciated it.”

“You know you're still not answering me, uh?”

“I am free,” Loki replied, looking at his half-empty cup, the chocolate nowhere near as soft or brown as that fool's eyes were on him. “It's all I hoped for.”

“So still not needing any saving, I guess.”

“No.”

Tony hummed, or maybe he just made that small noise because he was finishing his own drink. Loki waited, wondering if this was it. He had told the truth, for once in his life. What for, he didn't fully know. But he had, and now...

_It's over, isn't it?_

Now, Stark would leave, because Loki was not going to fall for his offer. Perhaps it was not a trap, after all. Perhaps it was just affection, and perhaps Stark was as true and as caring as he seemed, as he had seemed from the start. Perhaps Loki was making an enormous mistake, one he would regret forever.

He could picture it perfectly, a fantasy he had tried to burn away and failed to forget. How charming Tony would be, if Loki just looked back up at him and smiled. How he would go for it, with that delightful spark of chaos he had in him, just bring him into his life, his luxury, yes, a stay-at-home pornstar, no matter what anyone would say, and there would be lovemaking and laughter, and perhaps Loki would love him, love him so much the affection would be no prison at all. If he just said the word, Tony would give him a roof, a home, a new life. Perhaps it was there, that happiness he didn't believe in anymore. 

He'd never know. He had sworn it to himself.

“Hey, Loki,” Stark said, and Loki steeled himself. If he could not take a hint, then he would have to speak. Make himself clear. Break their chances before they solidified.

“Yes?”

“You didn't say if you were staying in New York or leaving,” Tony said. Loki took a breath. “We're cool, we're even, so I get if we don't see each other again. But, if you're actually staying -maybe we could go for lunch sometime and try this thing over again? I know a few nice places.”

Lunch.

“What are we, Tony Stark?” Loki asked. “Teenagers in love?”

He said it and Tony ruefully smiled and he couldn't help it but he smiled, too. The L-word. They were such fools.

The two of them.

“I'm not exactly a teen anymore, but you can still pass as jailbait, if that's what you want to go for.”

“Don't say that. We don't want to had cradle robber to your reputation.”

“I guess we don't,” Tony grimaced. “I'm still counting my blessings that my -uh- ward didn't want to ask about it.”

“Your ward. The Spider-Boy.”

“It's Man, actually. Spiderman. He's sensitive about it.”

“I didn't think of you as the mentoring type.”

“Neither did I. Most days I don't know if I'm doing more harm than good. But I guess -I just try to be there, you know. Stay away from good old dad's mistakes.”

Loki smiled again, alone, this time. Tony looked unsure, almost like he feared  _his_ judgement. It was ridiculous and it made him feel a little easier. It made him want to ask more about the Spider-Kid. About Tony's life. About his dad. About how they could be better than their parents.

A nice lunch, he told himself. A public place. Just a meal, to talk around, free of the tension of today and its revelations.

“If we're trying this again, as you're suggesting,” he said, “I'm going to need you to stick to one rule.”

“Name it,” Tony said, but he looked a little bit cautious. He wouldn't accept anything. That too made Loki feel better.

“Don't try to know where I am staying at,” Loki said.

“Is that it?”

“Should I fear anything else?”

Tony actually paused to consider that. Loki's heart, somewhen, had started to be calmer again, and his stomach was less of a pit of anxiety than it had been when he had walked into the cafe. He kept his eyes on the billionair, the superhero, the beautiful man, noticing the small wrinkles they never showed in the magazines.

“Well,” he said, eventually. “I've been known to go overboard with attentions. My ex-girlfriend called it social inadequacy and lack of good taste. My ex-boyfriend said it was too much and _he_ was actual royalty.”

“I don't want you to give me money,” Loki said, quickly, then paused. Extravagant, inadequate gifts. That... That tickled his curiosity. That was the spark of _weird_ that had made it hard from the start to compare Tony Stark to Justin Hammer and his sort. “What restaurant were we thinking of?”

* * *

 

Cameron Klein was not the sort of man who would go down in history, but that was okay with him.

He had joined SHIELD because he wanted to do his part to protect the world. He'd adored heroes since he was a little kid, a huge fan of the Hulk since his beginnings. He would never be strong like Captain America, though he jogged three days a week, and he would never invent anything revolutionary like Hank Pym. He was not even particularly brave, not normally. That one day when SHIELD had fallen, that one day when he had stood up to Rumlow -it would be the peak of his life. The one moment when he had been able to change the world, a little, and he  _had_ .

He had been recruited to work at Stark Industries the very day of the incident. He had expected a technician job, and he had been happy with that. Helping Iron Man? Hell, yes. His brother-in-law would never be able to make fun of him again. Once, he had even met with Sam Wilson, the Falcon, during his coffee break in the atrium. He had not dared to say anything, but he was almost sure there had been eye-contact. He was still not entirely over it.

But with time, his work had been noticed. He wrote especially good reports, his superior said, and his positivity was good on everyone's morale. He had been offered a promotion into the Crisis Department.

“The what?”

“PR,” Happy Hogan had clarified. “We need a new director there. It's constant chaos, lots of stress, not nearly enough money to endure his nonsense.”

The money was way more than enough, in Cameron's mind, but it wasn't what made him accept. It was the word  _director_ . It was the word  _his_ , implying that he was dealing with Tony Stark's nonsense in such a direct line. It was the opportunity to be the best at what he did. It was the opportunity to step out there and have the courage to show the world he could be great.

And he did. Not everyone cared, not everyone saw it, but he did. He was proud. He worked the Pornstar incident calmly, gave the social medias the perfect lines, and organised the perfect Stark Industries events to clear everything under the carpet. The entire department congratulated him. Heck, Pepper Potts congratulated him, sending him a fancy watch with a personal thank you not. More importantly still? Sharon. Sharon said she was impressed. She said she was happy he was doing so good. If he'd dared, he'd have asked her on a date. Now, the dust had fallen, and perhaps it was too late.

It was Tuesday, June 26 th when Director Cameron Klein walked into his job and found, with great surprise, a non-descript box wrapped in kraft paper, with only his name scribbled on it.

“Annie, what's that?” He asked his secretary, confused.

“Someone dropped it in here,” she replied, failing to hide a large smile, like she had been waiting for this all morning.

“Do we know it's not, like, anthrax?”

“Just _open it_ , Cameron.”

So he did, tearing through the paper. Inside was a small envelope, and something wrapped in tissue paper. He unfolded the letter, frowning, and his heart missed a beat.

_Dear Mr. Klein,_

_Just wanted to thank you for your hard work. You're in for worst, starting today at noon-ish. I'd apologise, but I regret nothing._

_Karen at HR should be calling you soon about a small thank you raise. In the meanwhile, I figured you might enjoy this through the crisis to come. He's a shy man. I promise you there aren't a lot of those things floating around._

_Cheers._

_-TS_

“Annie,” he stammered, “who brought this?”

“Did he sign it?” Annie asked, overjoyed.

“He brought it _himself_?”

“Just open! What is it?”

With shaking hands, he carefully placed the letter on the table, wondering about framing it. He undid the packaging in the box, and found, with the greatest possible disbelief, a Hulk shirt. Just the green shirt, with _Smash_ written on it. He knew it, because he had one already. He had _designed_ it and sold it kind of illegally on a fan website.

But this one had a little something more: a shaky signature in the corner. Two thin capital B could be observed through the scribble. _Bruce Banner_.

“Oh my god,” Cameron Klein whispered, looking at his new life treasure. “A-Annie, what time is it?”

“Almost noon, wh... Bill, are you okay?”

Bill, from the front desk, had just surged into the office, panting, looking like he had just seen a ghost and ran the three floors all the way up to them. Which was ridiculous, because they had _phones_ , but they usually did this when there was something going on so intense that it had to be said out loud, face to face.

“What is going on?” Cameron asked, holding tight to his shirt.

“It's the boss,” Bill panted. “He's on _Ellen Degeneres_ in ten minutes. Miss Potts just texted me-”

“What?” Annie worried. “What did he do?”

“He's _dating_ the pornstar, the -the -Silvertongue dude! They're on the show _together_!”

“Everyone stay calm,” Cameron interrupted before Bill's voice could grow more frantic. He paused, his team looking at him in disbelief and shock. This was a storm. Ten minutes from now, it would be _chaos_.

Wordlessly, he removed his jacket, then pulled on the green T-shirt over his shirt and tie. Annie and Bill both looked at him, frozen.

“This is fine,” he insisted, feeling himself mightier than ever. On a mission. “Annie, prepare a draft for the Facebook page. Bill, get a team on the phones. We're going to stay calm and we're going to handle this.”

And when he survived the day, he decided, when this was won, he would ask Sharon if she wanted to go out for coffee.

* * *

 

Loki was amazing in front of the cameras. Of course he was.

Tony didn't talk much through the entire interview. He did smile, though, looking at his boyfriend. Dressed in torn black jeans and a distressed green t-shirt, shrugging casually in his leather jacket and smiling around his piercings, Loki _owned_ the entire set. His charming accent, his articulated voice. His sass. Slowly making the entire world fall in love with him.

Yeah, Tony did a lot of smiling.

“How different is it?” Ellen asked Loki. “Working on a movie set, as compared to a porn set? I'm asking for a friend.”

The crowd laughed. Loki grinned, owning everything, his endless long legs crossed.

“Well, ah, I think I startled a few of my costars undressing on set, you know? Old habits and all. I have nothing to hide, but I think one Sebastian Stan is still in shock.” (Whistles and cheers!) “But, hmm, the scenes are much harder, much longer.” (Whistles again, laughters) “It's a nice change, still. A new challenge. I'm not saying I'm never going back to visit my friends at Ass-Guard Studios, if I feel like it.”

“And, Mr. Stark, how does it feel to be outstaged by your boyfriend? We've seen you hanging out with famous people before, but this production is _huge_. How long before people call you Loki's boyfriend?”

“Oh, we're well past that, Ellen. I'm just standing in the back and hoping Sebastian Stan never recovers enough to ask Loki out.”

The interview was cheerful, loud, carefully balancing on that line between daring and not too scandalous. It lasted all of ten minutes, probably more than enough to drive the world insane. When they left the studio, the sun was shining hard, birds whistling, cars driving on the highway, the calm before the storm.

Tony looked at him -really looked at him. Loki was putting on his cat eye sunglasses, looking like a rockstar in his tight jeans and long free hair.

“What is it?” He asked, pale lips twisting into a smirk, when he noticed the attention.

“You're so pretty,” Tony said.

“Do you think it went well?”

“You were amazing. They're all going to love you.”

“I don't care for _them_ ,” Loki replied.

“And I love you.”

“I care for that.”

They smiled, like the pair of idiots they were. They walked back to the car. Loki sat behind the wheel. He had never learned to drive a car before Tony taught him, a few weeks back. Now he was addicted to pushing sport cars to their limits. They kissed, quick and dirty, before he started the engine.

“Peter will be taking sneaky pictures of us to sell to the paparazzi, you know that?” Loki remarked as he took them out of the parking lot.

“Better him than the other vultures,” Tony shrugged pleasantly. “He never keeps the pictures where my eyes are closed. That's professionalism.”

“I wonder if Thor will see us on the news before he shows up.”

Ah, yes. The big guy. Loki had decided that he wanted to invite his big brother over, in time for the premiere of his first non-pornographic movie. Tony had offered to let him stay at the tower, as a guest, before he realised that Thor was three hundred pounds of muscles and love for his tiny brother whom he had not seen in ages. And that he had every reasons in the world to be protective of.

There had been plans to let Loki break the news to him nicely, privately. But then, they had spontaneously decided to tell the entire world themselves, this very morning.

Hopefully Tony wouldn't get squished to death. Hopefully.

“Think you should call him?”

“I don't want to talk to his dad if he picks up.”

“Think I should call him, insult your dad if he picks up, and then hand the phone to you?”

“That's more tempting already,” Loki agreed with a laugh, before he took a turn a bit too tight and made a small 'whoops' as someone honked behind them. He waved in apology. “I think I'm nervous about him. How stupid is that?”

“Very stupid, no doubt. He's your only brother and you love him very much and you ignored his calls for seven years. You have no reasons at all to be nervous.”

“You're awful, my dear.”

“I know. I'm also starving. Take me out, will you?”

“What do you want?”

“McDonald's.”

“But _I_ want a Burger King milkshake, and I'm paying.”

“Only if you wear the paper crown. It will look so good on you.”

Loki pretended to roll his eyes, but then he snorted a small laugh. Taking advantage of a red light, he slithered his hand around Tony's neck, pulling him closer for a slow, hard, happy kiss.

“I look good in anything,” he whispered as they broke apart. And, smirking, “McDonald's it is, Darling.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was as fun for you guys as it was for me. Again, thank you for all your love!


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